


Bruised Feet Don't Take You to the Altar

by faynia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faynia/pseuds/faynia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur needs a bride. Elena just wants to leave her father's house. Meanwhile, Morgana and Merlin meddle, and Vivian talks a lot. There's horseback riding, discussions of feelings, bad hair days, broken promises, and one scheming uncle who wants to ruin everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruised Feet Don't Take You to the Altar

**Author's Note:**

> Written for PaperLegends 2011.
> 
> Artwork done by the lovely catchtheskies.

 

Bruised Feet Don't Take You to the Altar  
 _Prologue_

The office was stuffy and made Arthur sneeze. He huddled in his chair beside his father whose scowl wasn't loosening. Its forbidding nature kept Arthur quiet and still while his father fought with the man across the desk. Mr. Huntsman had a deep voice when he spoke that made Arthur's insides twist in unpleasant knots. The air conditioner blew in a rattling drone from its place in the window, ruffling papers on Mr. Huntsman's desk and raising goosebumps on Arthur's arms. He didn't like it here.

Yet, here he was on his birthday and not at home with Morgana eating cake like he wanted.

Today he turned ten, a very respectable age, his father had told him that morning after breakfast. He had been tying his shoes and trying not to wrinkle his trousers when Morgana had rushed in, a blur of gold and purple and _hair_ as she tackled him into the wall with a big, tight hug. It was the happiest he had been all day. Everything had been perfect.

He didn't sigh, so much as huff, while his father argued with Mr. Huntsman about his grandfather. Arthur scowled down at the floor. His grandfather had been dead for years now, a piece of paper he left hardly mattered. Arthur didn't understand why it made his father angry. It made him shout and rave. It made him mutter under his breath about 'the ridiculous notion' and 'this is absurd.' Arthur agreed with the last one. He agreed wholeheartedly.

"I'm sorry, Uther, but you know as well as I that you can't change this," Mr. Huntsman said. Arthur thought he didn't sound terribly sorry about what he was saying. He looked up to see Mr. Huntsman staring at him with a peculiar expression. Arthur ducked his head and kicked his feet, wishing he was tall enough for his feet to reach the floor. Maybe then he would feel like he had reached a respectable age, and not an unimportant one like ten. Ten was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.

Morgana had been much better at being ten, he thought. She turned ten two years ago and had not once stopped smiling. She got to wear her favorite dress and shoes, eat all the cake she wanted and had a party with her friends.

Arthur got to sit in a stuffy, boring office and listen to his father shout.

"How could you have missed this?" His father hissed through his teeth and Arthur thought Mr. Huntsman might deserve to have his nose bit off for making his father sound like that. "You've had access to it for seven years."

Arthur tugged on his father's suit coat. "May we go home now, Father?"

His father tensed for a moment. Arthur recoiled, shrinking in his seat when his father raised a hand, but all he did was lower it to Arthur's head and stroke back his hair. When Arthur looked up, his father's voice was made of steel and his gaze was hard. "Yes, I do believe we're done here."

 _Twenty Years Later_

  
The ballroom was cluttered and loud. People clung to one another in small clusters across the floor, mingling as best they could without stepping on toes. Wine flutes clinked and clattered in hands and on trays. Candles lined the walls and ceiling. Their flames cast flickering shadows into the corners. It cost a small fortune to stand here. The food was too rich for a gathering such as this one, too heavy and costly. Every woman was dripping in expense, from her shoes to her earrings, and every man had put forth a considerable sum to appear presentable. Arthur stood at the back of it, surveying the ever growing crowd from behind his glass of wine. It seemed Lord Godwin had spared no one an invite in the whole bloody country from the amount gathered in his father's home. He downed the rest of his wine in a cheap bid for numbness before striking out to join the fray.

Arthur had only been to a handful of these functions before and would have declined the invitation to those had his father not wanted to show him off like a prized stallion. He certainly felt that way tonight.

Someone tapped his elbow lightly from behind. "You look like you're going to be sick, Arthur."

"Guinevere," he said. Relief coursed through him at the sight of her: effective and pretty as always, even in the catering uniform she was currently wearing.

She set down a tray full of empty wine glasses, plucking his from his loosened grip before he could work up a protest. "And your tie is coming undone."

Arthur's lips parted in a reluctant smile as he turned toward her. "Should I be apologizing?"

"You could at the very least pretend you want to be here tonight,” she said. “It isn't all _that bad_."

"No one wants to be here," Arthur pointed out as he leaned forward so Gwen could get at his tie. Her fingers moved with fast efficiency, undoing and then redoing the knot before anyone else even noticed. She passed her hand down his chest and then stepped back, satisfied.

"I do," Merlin said, bumping in under Gwen's arm and kissing her cheek. "Free champagne."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Gwen had already grabbed his ear and pulled sharply down on it. "It's not free just because you found an abandoned glass, Merlin."

"Says who?"

Arthur scoffed and watched as Gwen went on to harass Merlin, quite colorfully Arthur had to admit. There were some words in there he was certain she hadn't known a few months ago and he nearly had to cover her mouth twice to keep her voice down. Merlin's face burned redder than Arthur had ever seen it and his squawked protests were token at best. They always were when Gwen became worked up like this. And lately that seemed to be a weekly occurrence.

She whirled on him, finger brandished and eyes glowing. "You should be standing by your father, Arthur. Do you want us to all get fired?"

"How would-" Arthur started.

"Go!" she snapped and with one last confused look shared with Merlin, Arthur fled. He joined his father at the bottom of the sweeping staircase, a large statement on a time well past, and stuck his hands in his jacket pocket.

Uther's suit was pressed and polished right down to the button. His wine was barely touched, though he was constantly bringing the glass to his lips. "Don't disappoint me, Arthur."

"No."

"If you secure this match, it will be beneficial for us all."

"Of course, I understand."

Uther clapped a hand on his shoulder, taking another false sip of wine. Arthur had watched him do this for years. His lips would be damp and the wine moved but he never let it go further. Arthur had no such restraint. "Lord Godwin wishes to discuss the matter with you. I want to hear good things from him later."

"Yes, Father."

Uther grinned. "I hear she's rather beautiful."

"What?" Arthur started, badly. "Is she?"

"Her mother was something of a beauty herself and Lord Godwin is a fine man."

"I'm certain he is." Arthur took his father's glass of wine and downed it before a protest could be raised. "Had I ever met him before tonight, I'm sure I would know too."

"You will behave yourself tonight, Arthur. This is a very strategic position for our family since your inheritance from your mother was less than we had been hoping."

Arthur could feel the glass in his hand splintering in his grip. "I'm aware of that."

"Arthur," Uther said, sounding resigned rather than angry. Arthur wasn't sure which he would have been better equipped to handle. "The conditions of your marriage have been settled well before now. Lord Godwin and I have discussed it at length, and he finds you highly desirable. You'll do well to remember that."

" _He_ finds me desirable?"

“You’re a considerable ally and a fine business man, Arthur.” The pride in Uther’s tone was diminished by his next words. “You’d do well to remember that. The fact that you’ve never considered settling before now is irrelevant. You will not make a fool of us.”

Arthur muttered, “Do you want me to marry him or his daughter?” Uther moved to answer, his eyes darkening at the jibe, but his response got lost because the music swelled and stilled, falling into a lighter, airy tune as the crowd turned its attention to the stairs and the young woman standing uncomfortably, Arthur thought, at the top. Her dress was a pretty pale gold that seemed to drain the color from her skin. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in soft, gold waves, pinned to the side with a studded barrette that glittered when she glanced to her left, seeking someone out.

He saw it happening before she even began her descent - the way the silk fabric caught on the toe of her shoes - and he moved to the base of the stairs just in time to catch her when she tripped, flying down the last ten steps right into his arms.

The room was eerily silent as he helped her right herself, even as she blurted out apology after apology, wiping at his jacket and trying to smooth out creases that really weren’t there. He caught her hands with a forced look and led her toward the center of the ballroom, noticing the way her ankles rolled in those shoes. His toes curled under his feet as he came to the realization that this would not be a normal, decent dance.

He wasn't wrong. They moved in stilted bursts. Elena tripped over her own feet more than his, but every time her pointed toe dug into his foot, his expression became even tighter. She babbled apologies under her breath with such sincerity Arthur wanted to cringe away. His father had been out of his goddamn mind when arranging this. Surely he must not have known Elena would be quite this intrusive, otherwise the suggestion wouldn’t have even been presented.

Arthur caught a glimpse of his father’s face as new dancers joined them when the song began to wind down. The glimmer of approval made his chest seize with dread.

He was trapped.

Arthur glanced at Elena, who was puffing heavily like she had run instead of danced and was rubbing one of her feet. She looked up at him with startled blue eyes and offered him an awkward grin.

He was more than trapped.

♔

“He was horrible to you, wasn’t he?” Vivian ushered Elena into the parlor and patted one of the tables. “Sit up here, for heaven's sake and let me see the damage you’ve done to my shoes.”

Elena winced as she tugged them off and handed them to Vivian before jumping up on the table. It was rather close to midnight, and Elena's head felt like it was ready to drop right off her neck. Her eyes were blurring and not focusing as they normally did, and wasn't that a pity? She didn't want to be a spoilsport and tell her father she wished to go home, but these parties were never her favorites. And it was only made worse that this one was truly for her and no one else. This was to be her moment of glory - or something equally silly. She wasn't quite sure what the point of all this was, except to introduce her to people she likely wouldn't see again until Vivian married or her father passed away.

Both alternatives were dreadful and she never much cared to dwell upon either thought - except tonight apparently she was being made to. All because of Uther Pendragon. She'd only met the man once before now, but her father seemed to have a very close bond with him, which seemed impossible upon first glance. Uther Pendragon did not appear to be the sort of person who had friends. Or even acquaintances. He had associates.

And a son.

These factors seemed to be more than enough for her father to think fondly upon the whole lot of them. It seemed like a great deal more fuss was being put forth than necessary over a relationship that Elena very much doubted would ever happen, especially if Arthur continued to behave like he was on the executioners block. “I don’t think I bled this time,” she said.

Vivian waved her hand. “Blood isn’t the problem. Look!” She held up the left shoe and pointed at the warped insole. “You may as well keep them now. My feet won’t fit into them anymore." She tossed them at Elena with a sniff. "Now. Tell me. Was he an absolute boar?”

“He was quiet,” Elena said. “He didn’t seem very happy.”

“How charming of him.” Vivian scoffed and rolled her eyes, shoving the shoes back onto Elena’s feet. “Be sure to tell your father about this. He’ll see reason.”

“I’m not marrying him, Vivian,” Elena tried uncertainly.

Vivian dismissed her words without even a blink of acknowledgment. “He’ll break it off for you.”

“Vivi, I’m not getting married!” She grabbed her friend by the shoulders and gave her a good shake. “Can we please stop talking about this like it’s done already? I promise I’ll tell my father that Arthur Pendragon has a stick wedged far up his pert arse and a bee in his bonnet or anything else you like so long as we just stop talking about it.”

Elena exhaled sharply and bowed her head. She let Vivian pry her fingers away and startled when she felt warm pressure against them. Vivan grinned behind Elena’s hands, her eyes dancing in delight.

“Just so long as you promise,” she agreed, before leading Elena back off to the party.

♔

Arthur sank into his work the next morning with a headache and undying gratitude toward Merlin, who had left him coffee sometime earlier. He lifted the cup and sipped the delightfully bitter brew and then sipped it twice more for good measure. His shin smarted every time he brushed it against the side of his desk and his feet seemed unusually swollen for all the dancing he did not do.

He rubbed his leg and stared at his open email. He needed a plan. An exit strategy.

A wife.

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring the very existence of the email from his grandfather’s solicitor. The words were ones he knew well. Too well. His time was running short, his options contracting exponentially every day. The half a million pounds that were held in trust were about to fly out his proverbial window. He clicked away from the message as his headache grew stronger and simultaneously deleted the three following emails from his father and archived the one from Morgana.

Merlin, the little imp, had sent him an email full of panicked cat macros and a picture of a topless bloke and the kind suggestion to make his fortune through the industry. Arthur hesitated before archiving that email as well. If anything, it hadn't further soured his mood.

"Arthur?" Leon knocked once on his open door and stepped into the office, eyes darting between the computer, the coffee and Arthur's face as if he could puzzle together what was making Arthur's jaw twitch without asking. "Have you got a minute?"

"Do I look like I've got a minute?"

"No. You look like hell." Arthur appreciated the honesty and he slouched back in his chair. "Your father wishes to speak with you."

"About?"

Leon shook his head and slid his hand back through his hair. Arthur wondered how much of a tangent his father must have been on to have Leon come to fetch him directly. The unopened emails mocked him from the trash bin. God only knew what sort of scheme his father had worked up in the night. Arthur doubted it could be any worse than what amounted to an arranged marriage with the clumsiest, most ill-mannered woman he ever met.

(He never imagined he'd see someone pick a grape from their chest at a society function, let alone eat it afterward.)

Morgana would tell him he needed to consider her more positive attributes, as she had him do when Merlin first became his father's secretary and he had wanted to shove him down an elevator shaft after the first hour. Elena hadn't inspired homicidal thoughts. He wondered if Morgana would consider that a positive.

"Then it can wait." At least until Arthur didn't feel like someone was taking a hammer to his brain. His fingers hovered over his keyboard when a thought came to him. It was simple. Clear. He needed help. Leon was his most dependable, trustworthy friend. And he was standing in front of him waiting for some sort of dismissal. "Could you do something for me?"

"Will it get me arrested?" Leon asked, sounding resigned before Arthur could even make his request.

"I highly doubt it. I need you to find me someone's email address."

"Elena's?"

"Am I going to be killing Merlin this morning?"

"He didn't say anything." Leon withdrew a rolled newspaper from his back pocket and tossed it onto Arthur's desk.

"The society pages?" Arthur asked, unrolling it and giving the headlines the briefest scan. "Of course. I need her email address, Leon, and I need it today."

"Arthur-" Leon started but Arthur interrupted him well before the lecture would start.

"Is it illegal?" he asked.

"No."

"Then there isn’t a problem.” Arthur returned his attention to the remaining emails and when he looked back up, Leon was gone.

♔

She needed to find a nicer text message tone for when she got mail. This was ridiculous and loud. And disruptive, if the looks her father and Vivian and even Vivian's father, which wasn't sporting of him at all, were anything to go by. His phone had gone off twice since they sat down for supper and it was playing Menudo. At least hers was just a bell, for God's sake. Nothing offensive. Just noisy, that was all. She knocked the table with her elbow as she went to pull her phone off her lap and see who it was from. Possibly it was only spam, but one never did know. And she stuck with that motto, even that one time sticking to it meant sticking about in the ladies room long after everyone else had gone home.

'a.pendragon@camelot.com.' Her eyes widened in surprise. She looked up at the others and then back at her phone, opening the email with her mouth gone dry. She was pretty certain Arthur Pendragon absolutely hated her by the end of last night. Maybe to the point of disgust. His lip had held a funny little curl to it when they had been eating, but that might have been at the food itself. She hadn't thought to ask at the time. It hadn't seemed important.

"Elena?" Her father's voice broke through her mind's rambling sharper than a blade and much pointier than a stick. She rapidly lifted her head and almost toppled from her chair in her haste to straighten up. "Are you all right, princess?"

"Yes, Daddy," she said, turning the phone over in her lap.

"Wonderful. Then would you mind putting your phone away and joining us for dinner?"

It took a great deal of restraint not to run up the stairs and away from prying eyes the second she finished scraping food off her plate. Vivan was being Vivian and telling a story about some poor girl Elena had never heard of in her life but clearly had mortally offended Vivian by doing something or other. Elena nodded at places she hoped she was supposed to and the moment the offer was extended to move the conversation elsewhere, Elena claimed she had to use the loo and was off. She shut and locked the bathroom door behind her in one sweeping move that sent the door rattling and her father telling her to be careful.

She sat on the cover of the toilet and let out a breath before opening Arthur's email. It was only two lines. He hadn't even bothered to put his name at the bottom. He let his auto-signature take care of that detail, but what he did write would have had her dropping her phone into toilet bowl water had she not been sitting where she was.

"I don't understand you," she murmured. Reading the two lines another half-dozen times before coming to the conclusion that either Arthur was incapable of long, extended conversation or he felt as bizarre about all this as she did.

> "Would you come out with me this Saturday? Will need to know by Thursday.
> 
> Arthur Pendragon  
> V.P. Camelot inc."

And then his phone number and mailing address. No silly motivational quote. No color. No personality.

God, he was a prat. Elena had thought maybe he had been uncomfortable dancing and making small talk, but no, he was truly that stunted. She marveled at his inability to even sound like he wanted her to come out with him.

She opened up a reply window and tapped out: "Where did you get my email address from? :-)" She hit send and let the phone slip out of her fingers. She ought to have said yes. Was it too late to add it? She hadn’t been on a date since she was 11 and she didn’t very much think that one counted. They hadn’t even held hands or exchanged numbers or anything proper.

And his mouth had tasted like slug secretion.

All in all, she felt grateful for not being put off by boys forever by that experience.

Her phone clanged while she was reaching for it and she dropped it twice before making her fingers react in a way her brain was ordering them too.

“Online.” It read. Again. Nothing else with it. Elena ducked her head and laughed because she wasn’t sure if crying was acceptable at this point. She wasn’t completely repulsive, so why did the boys who wanted to take her out have to be so...Just. SO!

She sent out a rapid message in response. “All right. What time on Saturday?”

The response came back fast. "I'll know later in the week."

"Great. Here's my number, Arthur." She added it in and sent it off before she could think better of it. That was it then. She had nothing better to do than wait.

♔

"Moron," Morgana said, thumbing through the emails as she played with Arthur's hair. "My baby brother judges everyone beneath him but he can't even properly ask someone out at age thirty."

Arthur fumed silently beside her. He had tried. Could they not give him a little bit of credit? He hadn’t dated often because he hadn't the time. His interest in the more suitable girls had been minimal, if not non-existent. He enjoyed female company well enough. His string of one night stands attested to it, but this was entirely different, and terrifying. The amount of work a relationship took seemed insurmountable to him. He saw Gwen and Lance once a week and he marveled at how they managed to even talk with one another let alone stay together. How did one come up with so much to discuss when they lived together? "That's not helping, Morgana."

"Call her," she said.

"What? Now?" Arthur jerked away from her and scowled. "I'm not desperate."

"Does saying it make you feel better?" Morgana asked.

"You're not my therapist," Arthur grumbled and made a grab for his phone. "I don't need to be told when I've handled a situation poorly."

"Then next time why don't you ask for help before sounding like an ass?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Good." She didn’t get up. “You should call her. Preferably before the weekend. She’s not emotionally vacant like someone I know.”

“I don’t know why I even bother letting you into this room," Arthur muttered.

“Because you have no conscience, Arthur," Morgana told him. "That’s why you’ve got me.”

♔

Vivian’s grip on the curling iron was a little bit alarming in Elena’s estimation. Her friend was waving the hot iron around as she continued her rant, jabbing it toward the mirror every few seconds as if that helped make her point, which was something good, Elena supposed, only she was too busy avoiding having her ear burned off.

“Um,” she tried, but Vivian overrode her, or didn’t hear her, or possibly both. Elena worried her lower lip and tried to keep perfectly, perfectly still.

“Oh, my God, stop looking queasy. It’s not flattering. I can’t believe you talked me into this. And all for Arthur Pendragon. You’re not even a little sorry about this, are you?”

“Well, no?” Elena hazarded. She leaned away from the curling iron when it looked like Vivian was going to try and use it on her eyelashes. She didn’t, but what she did was a lot worse. The eyelash curler looked like a torture device and Elena swallowed back any objections to using it. Vivian would leave her half done or maybe worse, not that Elena thought she could look worse that she did every day, but she didn’t want to look like a clown from a circus either. “I had to ask someone! I don’t know what I’m even doing, I’ve never- You know I’ve never-”

Vivian’s expression softened and she set down the mascara that she had been set on using next. “You could have done much better, you know. I could have set you up if you were that desperate, but he will bring you somewhere nice and maybe give you a flower, if that...urchin he hangs around with reminds him. He’s useless otherwise. Don’t expect much.”

Elena felt her cheeks flood with color and wished they wouldn’t do that. She let out an exasperated sigh and slouched lower in the chair. “I don’t. Do you really think he’ll give me a flower?”

“He had better or believe me, his father will know about it.”

Elena panicked. “Vivian, you don’t-”

“Quiet now,” Vivian said and held up a pink tube of lipstick. “Time for some gloss.”

♔

Elena knew she was going to be late the moment she lost her stupid shoes. She was wrinkling her dress, which, God, probably cost more than her entire wardrobe barring the dress she’d worn to her party, but really, that was a small dip in the pond compared to what Vivian wanted her dressed in. Vivian wanted her to look like hot sex, or ass, or something like that so she could pull boys other than Pendragon. Elena doubted even with a skin tight black dress she would be able to pull that off. Luckily her father saw her before she could leave and had made her change and not even Vivian could protest that.

Not so luckily, she managed to misplace the shoes she had been planning on wearing so when she wobbled out the door, it was in Vivian’s silver strappy heels that were, like, five inches high. Elena wobbled her way down the steps of her house and crashed into her father’s car. She stayed there for a second to regain composure before sliding into the back seat, angrily kicking off her shoes long before they even left the driveway.

A low voice interrupted her agitated thoughts. “Should we stop along the way for a new pair?”

Elena felt herself smiling as the darkened window rolled down to reveal Percival driving with a steady hand and no expression, as always. But his eyes met her through the rear mirror. “Percy!” she shrieked, “When did you get back?”

She lunged across the seat and wound her arms around his shoulders, kissing his ear by mistake. The car jerked and swerved and Elena slid back into her seat and gnawed on the ends of her hair. “Sorry.”

Percy rubbed his ear on his shoulder but that was the end of it. “Last night.”

“Oh.” Elena winced at how wet she had made her hair before spitting it out and focusing on her thumbnail. “How was your trip?”

“Long.” Percy grinned, or, at least Elena thought he might have. It was hard to tell. “I have pictures.”

He tossed back a packet and it landed by Elena’s feet. She lifted it off the floor and scooted around so her back was resting against the door and her feet were up on the seat. Drawing her knees in toward her chest, she dumped the photos out onto her lap.

“And Mary?” she asked, shuffling them into some kind of order.

“Happy.”

Elena grinned and lifted one of the photos that had fallen out upside down.

The rest of the ride was held in unnoticed silence. Elena flipped through the photographs slowly, savoring each one. Too soon they had reached the restaurant and Elena was left once more to wobble her way to the door, ankles caving in with each unfamiliar step.

“I hate these bloody things,” she grumbled.

Someone snorted from close behind her and she nearly flinched out of her skin. The stranger grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling flat on the pavement. “I never would have guessed.”

“Arthur!” She turned once safely on the curb, eyes wide in shock, and then she hesitated. His expression was pleasantly neutral as if he was trying to control laughter, or aggravation. Elena was never much good at reading people’s faces. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.”

“I lost my shoes,” she offered as explanation. And it sounded every bit as pathetic an excuse as she bet it sounded to him.

“Your _shoes_.” He looked down at her feet, eyeing the improbably tasteful shoes on her feet and then back at her face.

“They’re Vivian’s,” Elena said, uncomfortable to even mention her friend to Arthur. Let alone on the first date.

“I can tell.” Arthur shrugged his sleeve up his arm and checked his watch. “We have ten minutes.”

Elena frowned. “To do what?”

He gestured down the street, the hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips. “Find you a better pair. I can’t imagine you’re enjoying the ones you have on.”

“No, I’m really not. Not even a little.”

Arthur wound an arm around her waist and she startled, confused by the gesture and what it meant. “You’re going to twist an ankle if you keep trying to walk alone in those. I don’t want to explain to your father why we had to go to the hospital. Do you?”

“He’d understand.”

Ten minutes wasn’t much time. Elena was in nervous hysterics, clutching Arthur’s shoulders as her ankles were sore and swollen and her feet felt very much like they were about to drop off and roll into the gutter. At one point Arthur had offered to carry her, but pride and embarrassment kept her marching on down the pavement looking like a newborn gazelle. Not at all charming or sophisticated. Elena didn’t know whether to full-out cry or laugh herself sick.

Arthur did not seem to notice or care as he half lifted her up the steps to a shop, pulling open the door and pushing her through it. The only girl manning the till glanced up with a speculative glance before shrugging and coming around to greet them. Elena only half listened as she fought to get her feet out from the heavily buckled shoes on her feet, finally managing to get them off and settle on the floor.

Arthur was talking by the time she reoriented herself through the haze of frustrated pain. “She needs something flat.”

“That matches this dress,” Elena added, tugging on the skirt of her dress. They followed the shop attendant to the back wall where a bunch of cheap pairs of shoes hung on hooks. All Elena noticed was they were flat and she reached for the black pair closest to her with a bow on them.

“These. These are perfect.”

“They are?”

She smacked Arthur in the stomach with the back of her hand to hush him and froze. Awkwardly, she pet the spot that she’d slapped and sheepishly frowned. “I-yes?”

“Right,” Arthur said, taking the shoes from her and tossing them to the helpless shopkeeper. “Those then.” When the shopkeeper continued staring at them in blank shock, Arthur gestured in a dismissive flick toward the counter. “Go ring them up.”

“Arthur!” This time when she slapped him, she did it with intention: a rough shove to the shoulder that sent Arthur stumbling a step. Elena folded her arms after she tucked a curl of blonde hair behind her ears, glaring at the floor. “I know I’m not exactly, whatever, you’re not doing this because you wish to, but you don’t have to be a rude little boy about it. You don’t have to _stay_.”

“Lady,” Elena looked up and found the shop girl moving out from behind the counter, still holding her shoes. “Is the bloke bothering you or something?”

“We’re on a date,” Elena said, gesturing between the two of them weakly. It wasn’t much of a date. She’d actually been excited about it earlier, but now that nervous fluttery feeling was back with a vengeance and she rubbed her arms to keep herself from bouncing in place.

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t bothering you any. Uh. You need me to get rid of the tags on these things?”

“Please?”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to call higher up and get him taken care of.”

Elena felt Arthur stiffen beside her and she slowly reached out and touched his wrist, possibly the lightest touch she ever gave him since they met to keep him in place. “We’re fine.” She gazed up past Arthur’s head at the far wall, still not ready to ask for an apology or maybe apologize herself. She grinned. “Right?”

Arthur’s gaze was heavy and irritated, but he nodded once, turning his palm to clasp her hand. Her sweaty, clammy hand. Elena wished he’d given her some proper warning before he went and did that. “Right,” he agreed and then his gaze moved from her face out the window.

The silence between them lasted well beyond the shoe store. Elena kept fidgeting with the hem of her dress, her purse, her hair and Arthur kept scowling at the curb like it was going to throw him off into oncoming traffic. Vivian’s warnings kept bubbling up like a pesky insect, buzzing around her brain and nettling at her already storming thoughts.

This was an absolute disaster.

If possible, dinner was worse. Elena cowered in her seat, cringing away from a too-bubbly waiter who seemed intent on making her feel as awkward as possible. The poshness of the restaurant worsened her mood, which she found hilarious, because all she had to do was look across the table to find Arthur scowling at her like she was some weird bug he couldn't identify. She fidgeted with her napkin until their food arrived and from there everything went downhill at a painful rate.

It started when she knocked over her glass of wine, spilling its contents across the table, unable to prevent the red stain from overtaking the entire white tablecloth. To make it worse, some spilled onto her dress, causing her to yelp and jerk her plate of food onto the floor. She couldn't stop apologizing, or crying, and by the time Arthur had paid, the silence that stretched between them was too much for her to bear. She hid inside her jacket and stared at the pavement as she waited for Percy to come back with the car.

When she turned to say goodbye, Arthur merely offered her his hand, which she shook gingerly before dodging around him and scrambling into the black car that rolled up to a stop before them.

Arthur never said a word.

♔

“That was an absolute disaster,” Arthur groaned as soon as he heard the door to his bedroom open. He didn’t have to lift his head to know Morgana had slipped into his room and wasn’t at all pleased with his little display.

“She was _crying_.” The end of the bed dipped where Morgana sat. “Are you happy with yourself, Arthur?”

“Ecstatic.”

Morgana pet his leg for a silent moment. “You need to apologize.”

“To whom?” Arthur asked as he rolled onto his back. “Her or the idiot shop girl?”

“Both,” Morgana said, making Arthur wince. “But we’re not expecting miracles. Apologize to Elena at the very least. She deserves better than your worst.”

Arthur groaned and gazed up at the ceiling. “Once Vivian has gotten to her, she won’t even answer her mobile anymore.” He frowned. "What should I do?"

Morgana crawled along the bed and sat up against his headboard. He gave her thirty seconds to start playing with his hair and he wasn’t disappointed when she did. “You need to want to apologize to her. Do you?”

“Do I have a choice?” Arthur gazed up at her and flinched at the cold look she sent his way. “Right.”

“Do you want to apologize to her, Arthur?” Morgana repeated as if he hadn’t said anything to her.

“I’ll make a mess of it,” Arthur said. “She’ll dislike me even more.”

Morgana was unrelenting. “Do _you_?”

Arthur grimaced and glared up at her. For a long moment they sat locked in a battle of wills and even then Arthur knew he had to break first. “Fine.”

“Good.” She slapped his phone into his hand and closed his fingers around it when he went about it too slow for her liking. “There is a bouquet of yellow roses for you to pick up at that florist your father favors. Your car is already started and for God’s sake, put on a decent pair of shoes.”

Arthur's scowl deepened. There was nothing wrong with his shoes. The black Converse were loosely tied, but they were clean and, more to the point, comfortable and a _present_. Morgana slipped off the bed, but not before kissing his brow like a mother tending a fussy child. “Be good to her, Arthur. God knows she deserves better than you. That Father thinks you’re mature enough to handle this is a laugh.” Her expression hardened. “And don’t you dare expect me to help you out of any other mess you create. You’re on your own now. Do not fuck this up, Arthur.”

♔

Arriving at Lord Godwin's house in the middle of supper hour was embarrassing enough on its own. Arriving at Lord Godwin's house in the middle of super hour wearing Converse he had not changed out of –thank you, Morgana—while clutching a bouquet of bright yellow roses with a note tied to the paper wrapping and having Vivian answer the door was like a jab to his balls. He stood stiffly in the doorway, scrambling for a way to explain his presence, when Elena appeared over Vivian's shoulder, disheveled and half dressed. She gripped Vivian's arm and hid partly behind her, watching Arthur with too bright eyes; all he managed to do was stuff the flowers into Vivian's arms and turn tail to flee.

She hadn't said a word, and she didn't have to. Her confusion and unhappiness spoke enough for her.

He regretted that the apology hadn't been written in his hand, but he was not turning back to retrieve those flowers.

Morgana had been right. He wasn't a good man.

  
He never could have anticipated Lance's reaction.

He hadn't even been aware he knew Elena. Let alone knew that he had attempted to apologize to her.

Apparently he did.

He cursed his own stupidity as Morgana held an ice pack against his eye and chided him.

♔

Elena spoke to no one for a week. Her mobile was left off on her bathroom sink, near the toilet in the hopes that someone might just knock it in so she’d have a better excuse not to answer. She picked at the underside of her nails, flicking out imaginary dirt as she changed the channel with her big toe. Her bathrobe was beginning to smell a bit.

“I’m allowed this.” She reasoned out loud to absolutely no one. “I’m allowed to still dislike him. It’s perfectly reasonable.”

She changed the channel again and hissed, letting out a frightened shriek as she toppled off her chair in her haste to turn up the telly.

Arthur looked immaculate where he stood behind his father’s imposing form. Uther Pendragon could dwarf any man without conscious effort, even his son, but Elena’s eyes were glued to Arthur, who had a bruise the size of Wales over his eye but he acted as if it wasn’t there.

“What a little shit!” Elena screamed, getting ready to change the channel, but all she seemed capable of doing was turning the telly up that much louder. Arthur was speaking now, something about his father's company and making great strides to do something or other. All Elena wished to know was who got the sucker punch in to his eye. It looked like it hurt a hell of a lot more than Elena's stomach had the night Arthur left her on the doorstep with a curt goodbye and a handshake. A _handshake_.

She hated Vivian most days. She hated her best friend more when she was _right_. She had been very, very right, and now she wouldn't even shut her fat gob about it. Elena was starting to resent Vivian's treatment of the situation more than Arthur's awkward half-arsed attempt at an apology earlier in the week.

She in no way still had the roses on her bedside table. Or knew that the petals were drying slowly. Or that a few might have been pressed into various books that were shoved unceremoniously under her bed. The ball gown her father had purchased for her was slung over her closet door and hadn't been moved once since that stupid, awful party.

Elena buried her nose in her bathrobe and glowered at the television screen. Uther was talking again and Arthur was fidgeting behind him, tipping the mess on his face away from the camera like he knew someone must be watching him and wondering what kind of self-centered prick he was that someone had gone off and punched him in the eye.

It was rather brilliant. She wished she had thought of it.

♔

"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur bit out over his mobile when it rang for the umpteenth time, but this was the first time he'd bothered to pick it up. Merlin's soft laughter grated along his already sore nerves. He instantly regretted answering it. "What?"

"Gwaine told me," Merlin said and then crunched into something disgustingly in Arthur's ear. He needed better, more sympathetic friends. Ones who had manners even. That would be a novel experience. "Said Lance got you good for what you did to her. Was it even all that bad?"

"I'm going to hang up on you now," Arthur said and did just that. He turned to face the mirror above his sink and scowled. "I don't need to hear it, Morgana, so you may as well get out."

She was leaning against the door with an odd expression. "I'm sorry the apology didn't work," she said.

Arthur sighed and pocketed his phone. Every person who had his number had rung him up to tell him they saw him on the telly. Every person wanted to know how he got a fistful in the eye. Every person but Elena. Arthur bowed his head and clenched his fists. "So am I."

♔

It was only 5am when Elena's phone beeped and she didn't even look at the name before reading the text. Only then she had to, because what she read made no sense at all. She immediately called him, uncertain why she was even bothering except the invite was so bloody foreign. So completely ridiculous, it bordered on the edge of absurd.

"You want me to go with you _where_?" she asked before Arthur could even say 'hello'.

"A small farm just outside the city. They've got horses and falconry lessons," Arthur's voice trailed off with an uncertain grunt. "I want to apologize for the way I treated you last week. It was..." Arthur cut off again and Elena pulled back the phone from her ear to check call reception but it wasn't a problem on her end. No. The problem was all Arthur. Who was stammering like a tongue-tied pre-pubescent boy. Elena nearly let a giggle slip at the thought. "I know you said you enjoyed horseback riding, but could never find someone to go with you. I was hoping you would join me."

"I don't think-" she started but then Arthur cut her off well before she could work out a proper let-down, or even give one a thought.

And God, did he have to sound so pathetic and uncomfortable when using the word, "Please?"

Elena examined her expression in the mirror, trying to place the emotions that were crisscrossing her features like some bizarre type of splatter art. "Yes," she finally answered when she thought the silence might be worse than an actual response. "All right."

"And they offer- All right?"

Elena snorted. "I did just say that, Arthur. Don't make me regret it." She winced and couldn't stand the way her lower lip pulled down at the corner when she did it and spun away from the mirror. "When?"

"Can you get that driver of yours to bring you around now?"

"Now?!!" Elena jerked upright and flailed for a moment, panicking as she realized she'd been having this whole bizarre talk in nothing more than her panties in complete darkness. "Um, I don't know if he's awake yet." She scrambled for the top she had discarded the other night when the heat began to get to her. "The horses won't be going anywhere, will they?"

"No," Arthur said and Elena hated him more when she realized she was imagining him smirking while saying this. "But the traffic will be abysmal, and I do not want to be stuck in it."

"If you're so worried, why don't you come and pick me up then?" she asked.

There was a pause and Elena nearly drifted off in it when Arthur's voice rang through her ear. "Fine."

"Wait, but-Arthur!" The dial tone answered her. "You stupid prat!" she shrieked.

Elena scrambled from her bed and raced into her bathroom, stripping her panties off her ass and throwing them at the hamper and diving for the shower. The water burst forth from the shower head blisteringly cold and she slipped back into the wall, smacking her head. She cursed colorfully and reached blindly for the knob, adjusting the heat until the freeze began to thaw from her toes.

She sighed as the heat enveloped her and let herself pretend this was going to be an ordinary day.

♔

The traffic _was_ abysmal. Elena stared out the window in unflinching silence as they crept down the streets and people hurried past on the curb. They could have been there faster if they had walked. She glanced at Arthur whose shoulders were stiff and tense as he drove. His eye looked a bit better, she supposed. The dark circle around his left eye was fading from a dark blue to a purple-pink color edged with green. She wanted to ask about it, but she was afraid to break the fragile truce they held in silence. Elena thought one word wrong might set Arthur off into a flurry of anger. She was only mildly impressed he hadn't been leaning on the horn for the past hour.

Once out of the city, the traffic thinned and they were well on their way. Arthur kept driving in silence, eyes unflinchingly forward as they smoothly drove down a dirt road toward a farm cloistered in a forest. Elena rolled down her window and leaned out of the car, breathing in the fresh air and animal smells as they came to a stop. She laughed and lunged back inside, undoing her seat belt before scrambling from the leather lined interior of Arthur's little car.

Lifting her arms high above her, she bent and stretched out her back, groaning as her muscles flexed and her spine shifted and popped back into order.

"I've boarded my horse here since I was little." Arthur came around the car and leaned against the door, watching her. "I haven't been here in a month."

"You've been busy doing that...thing you were discussing on the telly the other night," Elena said, straightening up. "The horse will forgive you."

"Will you?"

Elena winced and bit down on her lower lip. "I-"

Arthur waved her off and gestured toward the stables, dismissing her half-formed excuse before it began - something that was becoming quickly irritating. He had no idea what she was about to say. Even if he had, it didn't give him a good enough excuse to treat her like a simpleton. She trailed after him, dragging her feet and wondering if she had endured enough time in his presence to request he take her home.

The sun was just cresting the tree tops by the time they found and saddled their horses. Elena didn't speak as she stroked a hand across the flank of the mare she would be riding that day, trying to get a feel for the poor creature before she took her out. Its docile nature was reassuring in comparison to the trouble Arthur seemed to be having with his own animal. Elena grinned and brushed her nose against her mare's muzzle and tried not to laugh as Arthur kept failing to secure his saddle before the horse stepped on his foot.

"I thought you've ridden before, Arthur," she said in mild jest, enjoying the look of extreme annoyance and confusion her words were rewarded. "Look. Let me. You just...talk to him. I did say he'd forgive you," she muttered as she took the saddle from Arthur's hands with a grunt. "I never said he'd give it freely."

Arthur stepped out of her way, clearly bewildered and not entirely happy by her assessment. Either that or Arthur's face was constantly stuck looking like his world was filled only with troubles, and everyone but he was to blame. She hefted the saddle back onto the horse and swiftly went through the motions of securing it, without being stepped on or anything else ridiculous and silly and gave its hind quarters a fond pat before turning to Arthur, who was dumbstruck, and smiled.

"All done," she said, handing him the reins when he moved beside her. She punched his shoulder and slipped around the horse to retrieve her own. And it was her own horse too. She hadn't been entirely honest with Arthur, but really, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. Elena had boarded her horse at this barn since she was thirteen. Her father used to take her down here once a week for years, until he had determined she wasn't focusing enough on school and her future. He had never been too specific on what that future was.

She had been down here not even two weeks before with Vivian to take her poor mare out for a quick ride. Vivian had complained the entire time they were there, but she had gone with her, and that was what counted. Elena missed having the time to ride when she chose. Everything was so hectic and wrong now. Her time was being dictated for her against her wishes. But this was something good that she could do.

Besides which, she liked having one over Arthur. It was his turn to feel hideous and embarrassed. It was only fair.

"There's a river in the woods," she said to him, ignoring the insolent quirk of his eyebrow. "About a kilometer away."

She mounted her horse and laughed as she swung it around toward the exit. "Last one there is a pickled egg," she cried and took off, leaving Arthur gaping behind her.

♔

She was already standing up to her ankles in water by the time Arthur plowed through the trees, looking winded but strangely pleased. His grin was as crooked as his hair was wind-swept when he leapt off his horse and tethered it to a tree trunk. He might have been humming, but Elena chose to blame that on the birds and stream messing with her hearing. Arthur wouldn't do something that ordinary.

"You took your time," she said.

"You cheated," Arthur shot back. He took his time taking off his shoes and socks and rolling up the bottom of his trousers before he waded out into the cool water with her. She frowned. "Did you hit your head, Arthur?"

"What?" he arched an eyebrow in her directions as he bent and lifted a smooth stone from the riverbed. He whipped it further upstream. "You surprised me."

She hesitated. "I hope not in a bad way."

"No," he said. "I haven't ridden with someone competent in a long time."

"Good. You needed someone to put you in your place then. You were too cocky." She squatted down and let the water curl between her fingers. It took a minute for her to work up the courage to ask the question that had been tickling her conscience since he had picked her up that morning. "How did you get that bruise?"

"You weren't told?" he asked and his tone was amiable enough that she looked up at him, confused. "Lance paid me a visit after our date and my poor attempt at an apology. He wasn't impressed."

"He hit you?" She blinked a few times and couldn't quite help but wonder if he truly hadn't hit his head on a branch or something while chasing her down. "Are you sure you weren't drunk and mistook him for someone less...noble?"

"He was defending your honor." Arthur shrugged and ran his thumb under his eye and flinched. "I hadn't been aware you knew him."

"We were neighbors when we were little. He's...protective."

"Everyone seems to be protective of you." Arthur said it in such a derisive tone Elena had no choice but to splash him as hard as she could. He sputtered and shook his now soaked hair, a murderous glint in his eyes. Elena scrambled backwards with a yelp when he kicked a spray of water up into her face and laughed. She fell on her arse and blinked up at him, shocked straight down to her toes. When he laughed, his whole body was in it, and she'd never seen him do so before. She hadn't been aware he was capable of having a sense of humor. Everyone could laugh, but she hadn't thought he'd be one to take well to a joke at his expense, but there he was standing over her with his hand extended, laughing like a young child who had just pulled some hilarious prank and was getting away with it. She slapped the water and sent another spray up into his handsome face and felt smug when he choked and fell down into the stream in front of her.

"You do not fight fair," he remarked, wiping his face with his wrist.

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "You weren't paying attention."

It was funny, really, she mused as Arthur pulled himself from the stream, pausing to help her stand as well, how obnoxious Arthur was, even when he wasn't being obnoxious at all. Certainly it was a different sort of annoyance, one born from exasperation and bone deep confusion, but it made his person an obnoxious enigma all the same. He had been acting cold and aloof with her from the moment they met, and hadn't been different one whit until they had come here, and now he was acting like a young man, fairly happy and apparently smart enough to have the foresight to pack breakfast, so they could eat, something she hadn't had any time to do that morning between showering and trying not to get killed on a wet-tiled floor as she rushed to get dressed.

She broke off a piece of flaky, buttered bread and dipped it into a small pot of honey set between them, watching Arthur closely. He truly was an obnoxious man. She had dearly wished to hate him, like Vivian did, and he had been making it too easy until today. Someone must have talked to him. It couldn't have been Lance, as the embarrassment from punching Arthur in the eye would have been more than enough to sever conversation for a week or so, before the anger cooled into something more malleable to work with. Until Lance knew Arthur could forgive him, she had to cast him aside as the inside informant. It definitely wasn't Vivian. Vivian couldn't spend more than three seconds discussing Arthur without having to run through his various physical and emotional flaws, or the ones she had brushed along anyway.

It may have been Gwen. Gwen was sweet and wanted what was best for all her friends, Arthur included, and she was dear enough to maintain calm under pressure and still solicit advice, whether or not the person receiving it cared to listen at that moment. She'd met Merlin once or twice through Gwen and Lance, but that wasn't enough time to get to know one another beyond simple pleasantries, definitely not enough time to learn her interests.

No, it had to have been Gwen. She would call her later when they returned home to thank her for whatever it was she said to make Arthur behave more like a man and less like a boar.

She could almost consider his attention sweet now, if she hadn't seen what he had been like before this. Yet, he didn't seem terribly uncomfortable behaving himself, leaving her curious to know if his tough and aggressive demeanor was something like a cover to show off around others. The only person he had to intimidate here was her and the trees, and she thought she may have already proved she was unimpressed by him enough for that barrier to have softened somewhat.

Whatever it was, she decided, licking honey from her fingertips, she hoped it lasted through the remainder of the morning.

♔

Arthur grew pensive again and retreated back into his shell after they had packed everything away and mounted their horses to continue their ride. The silence was thicker than earlier, filled with some unknown tension Elena couldn't decipher. Their conversation over breakfast had been easy, and remarkably ordinary, their topics turning from the news and politics to an odd little argument over breakfast pastries that had ended when she'd lobbed a bit of her bread at his face and managed to get honey in his hair.

She didn't think it was that incident that was bothering Arthur now, but she couldn't fathom any other reason for him to have withdrawn so much in such a small space of time. She drew her horse alongside his and matched his slow, plodding pace through the woods, sneaking short glances at his stony features every few seconds.

"Arthur," she tried once, testing his name softly, worried he might snap if she said it any louder. He grunted and his gaze flicked once in her direction to show he was listening. Except now that she had his attention again, she couldn't quite work out what to say. "Are you...upset?"

He pulled on the reins and forced his horse to rest before he looked fully at her. She frowned under the force of his stare. "No," he said, short and clipped, before nudging his horse onward again, leaving her to trail after him at her own leisure. She knew well enough when to give up on something as lost.

Silence carried them back to the stables where it remained long after they dismounted and began to rub down their horses.

"There's a will," Arthur said, breaking the silence with astonishing abruptness.

"What?" Elena stopped brushing down her horse long enough to see Arthur shift uncomfortably, as if he found everything distasteful, not just her question. She leaned against the horse and folded her arms under her chin, waiting.

Arthur tossed his brush angrily into the bucket of supplies and raked his fingers back through his hair. "My grandfather was a _fool_ ," he said, sitting on the small foot stool. "A romantic, doddering old bastard. He left me half his fortune. It is…extensive and I can't access it."

Elena frowned. She didn't know where Arthur meant to go with this conversation or why he wanted to tell it to her in the first place. They'd been having a perfectly agreeable afternoon until now. But Arthur appeared so wrought with frustration. She didn't want to test him by asking why this mattered. He already seemed ready to lash out and start shouting. "Why not?"

"It's locked in a trust." He gazed up at her, eyes blazing, not with anger but apology. "Until I marry." He snorted and Elena's stomach twisted. "I turn thirty this year. If I'm not married by then, the whole fortune reverts to my Uncle Agravaine."

"Agravaine DuBois? The-"

"Precisely."

"And your birthday is…?"

Arthur's laugh was jagged as a rusted blade and Elena suddenly wished for a hole to open below her to swallow her up and take her away from here. This was why Arthur had been trying so hard to court her. This was why he was being nice. It had nothing to do with him having a change of heart, or even an attempt at being polite. He needed her. He needed her for _money_. She wasn't seriously considering this. One good morning didn't make up for Arthur being a miserable, self-centered prat. And an egotistical bully. And many other terrible things as well, she was sure. Not to mention Lance felt the need to protect her from him and Vivian absolutely loathed every part of him. She bet he _snored_ and had a tiny little prick too.

"August," he said.

Elena swallowed hard. "August what?"

"Fifteenth."

She tripped over her own bucket of supplies and fell to the ground, gawking at Arthur between the horses legs. That was hardly a month. Maybe three weeks at best. What had he been thinking? Obviously he hadn't been thinking, she reasoned, or he wouldn't be here with her. He would be off populating the world with little blond haired, bratty children, with someone prettier than her and much better at being some kind of disgusting trophy wife.

"I hope you have a plan," she said.

Arthur rubbed his hands together and looked away. His Adam's apple worked as he thought. She regretted issuing the challenge. Her ears rung like a clarion bell and she couldn't be sure that she wasn't trembling out of fear. When he finally looked at her again, he appeared as composed as Elena had ever seen him. "I was rather hoping you would be that plan."

♔

It was tempting to spend another week hiding under her blankets. Her father had watched her with a careful eye the moment she set foot back in her home, but something in her expression must have put him off as he hadn't even come in to say goodnight yet as he always did. She hugged her down comforter tightly around her shoulders and stared hard at her mobile, begging Vivian to call so she could help make sense of all this.

Or at least talk her out of agreeing. She had told Arthur she needed time to think about it, like she was going to possibly weigh out why this might be good for her. (It wouldn't). Or how it would likely save a lot of people a lot of grief as Agravaine DuBois was the worst sort of person Elena had ever had the misfortune to meet at one of her father's dinner parties. The man didn't have a shred of civility or kindness in his body. He also kept trying to stick his hands under her skirt at the table; she hoped she broke his foot with her heel when she'd smashed him with it.

But besides the satisfaction of seeing Arthur's uncle declare bankruptcy, there was no real reason to marry Arthur. She could list on one hand Arthur's redeeming qualities and she needed both her hands and feet to list his less desirable traits. Yet, she kept running back around to Arthur's shockingly earnest face as he tried to convince her.

It would be an open marriage. He didn't expect her to be faithful to him. She would gain access to half his fortune and could do with it as she pleased. She didn't even have to live with him after the first five years, or give him any children. She just needed to be willing to go forth and pretend she was happily in love for a few weeks, long enough to sign some paperwork and help Arthur gain his funds.

It felt a lot more like selecting a posh roommate than designing some sort of twisted marriage contract.

He hadn't even been arsed to get her a ring.

She stared at her bare hand and then groaned, flopping back into her pillows. If she did agree. Let's just say she decided to go forth with this sham. Then what might it be like? Being married. She knew very little about what it meant to be married. She assumed the movies at the cinema were a load of crock. Books might even be worse. She didn't know how to be a good wife, let alone a decent girlfriend. She barely passed as a Lady despite what her title implied. Lady Elena of Gewent. Who even cared about such things anymore? Arthur certainly wasn't a lord. She supposed that might be one mark in his favor. He might be rich enough to pass through society, but he wasn't obligated to, unless he needed to ingratiate himself with someone. That his father and her own were close friends and colleagues meant they would both be pleased by this. And her poor father was beginning to despair of her. It took her so long to get this far. Like it was some sort of contest. As if she had some sort of rush to be settled elsewhere.

She never really belonged in this sort of lifestyle. The parties and functions and expectations were never meant for her. She much rather would have had a job in a shop where she made her own earnings and was able to date who she pleased and maybe live in a cheap flat where the ceiling had water damage and poor plumbing. No one would care if she forgot to put on foundation or didn't brush her hair that morning. No one would demand she appear perfect and doting and pliant.

Arthur had inadvertently given her the chance to do all those things. He probably hadn't even considered how desperately she wanted to be out on her own and away from the constant protection and supervision, but there it was. And Arthur _Pendragon_ had been the one to offer her a way out.

She hated him so much in that moment she didn't know whether to laugh, cry or call the bloody bastard and let him know just what she thought of his conditions.

Instead she sent him a text message and turned off her phone. Tomorrow she would deal with, well, everyone else. Tonight, she was going to plan out the rest of her life.

♔  
"ARTHUR PENDRAGON, ANSWER YOUR PHONE! ANSWER YOUR PHONE RIGHT-Lance, don't you dare. Don't you dare tell me not to call and shout at him for not telling me yesterday he-No. NO!

Arthur, we'll call you back. Congratulations."

"Princess, you can't just propose to the first bird who lights your fancy. Especially one who earned you a black eye not even a week ago. You're mad. Lance called and told me, said you'd need a friend. I say you need a pint. Come round the pub tonight. I'll text Merlin. We'll make it a celebration."

"Arthur. Are you sure you want to do this? You know you can fight your grandfather's will, if you want to. You don't even need that money. You shouldn't marry someone you don't actually like, let alone love. Call me when Morgana stops yelling."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Arthur. I told Gwen this morning when she came by to pick up the payment for catering and I couldn't-It's my fault. I'm really, really sorry. I didn't even think about it. It just slipped out! If you change your mind about all this, I'd understand. I would."

"I hope you're pleased. Uther was gloating all throughout lunch."

Arthur swore silently and looked at his open door. He needed to take that key from her. This was becoming absurd. "Morgana, not now."

"Do you have a better time to talk about it?" She closed the door and came to sit on his bed, which dipped under her weight. "I certainly can't think of one."

Arthur glared at her, but she didn't budge. "I can't let him have that money."

"You can't think beyond the end of your abysmally large nose," she said and lifted his mobile, twirling it in her hand. "Do you ever stop to wonder why you're such a prat?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you even properly ask her?” she pressed. “Have you even properly apologized yet?"

"I don't see how it's any of your-"

"Arthur, your grandfather wanted you to be happy. Not simply married. He loved you. I was six when he passed, but even I can remember how happy he was that you didn't behave as Uther wanted you to. He adored everything you did. And considering you were two when he died, that says a lot."

"He couldn't have let me have the money without inflicting myself on some poor girl, could he?"

"He never stipulated it had to be a girl," Morgana calmly pointed out as if that was a rational argument.

Arthur groaned and rubbed at his eyes, hissing when he caught the worst part of his bruise. "What exactly do you want, Morgana? I was busy having a crisis before you sauntered in here."

"You're much too young to be having a crisis, Arthur. Buy her a ring and at least make it official." She stroked her fingers through Arthur's hair with a light tut. It was tragic how easily the motion settled his stomach. "If you're both going to be idiots about it, you may as well try and make it believable. The rest of us will be waiting for this to blow up spectacularly."

"She never had to agree to begin with," Arthur felt compelled to mention. He still wasn't certain why she had. Had their positions been reversed, he never would have agreed to it, not even with the foundation they had laid between them once Elena had moved past her initial shock. There wasn't enough time to court her properly, let alone convince her that he was being sincere in his intentions, even if his feelings for her were more muddled than they had ever been.

This morning had come as something of a revelation to him. He had to admit, she'd been easier to get along with when they were alone than in some crowded room, but that wasn't the basis for marriage. It was barely enough for a strange form of friendship.

And he had asked her to marry him, after only an hour or two of getting along.

No one should have agreed to this. He never should have asked. Merlin had been right in his voicemail. If Arthur wanted to, he could fight that stipulation in the will, or ignore it entirely, but he could not move past the disgusted, horrifying idea of his uncle getting any funds because of Arthur's slow feet and inability to maintain a girlfriend.

Morgana's earlier assessment had been accurate. Elena deserved far better than him.

"No," Morgana agreed. "But then you never did ask her why she might have said yes in the first place."

"She called me this morning."

"And you slept through it all." Morgana snatched away Arthur's phone and scrolled through his missed calls. He squirmed when she returned it to him, leaving it on the first phone call of the morning. "As unenviable as your snoring is, it clearly lets you sleep more freely than some of us."

"It was set to silent," Arthur said.

"Because you couldn't face anyone," Morgana countered.

Arthur dismissed the claim with a shake of his head. "I had a headache."

Morgana shook her head and petted his knee. "You're pathetic. Call Elena first. Everyone else can wait. If you wish to make the world believe you're in love, you best start working on your story. You'll have a tough enough time convincing people this isn't for the money to begin with. It isn't just your grandfather's lawyers you must convince. Uncle Agravaine will not let this money go lightly. Now get dressed. You're starting to ferment in here. Did you even shower when you came home yesterday?"

♔

Arthur steepled his fingers below his chin with a detached sense of humiliation as Merlin paced across the kitchen. Merlin had always been an idealist. His world was pink and rosy and possibly full of kittens and rainbows and other sources of happiness that would embarrass the ordinary man to admit to liking. Arthur only wondered how long Merlin could keep up this level of unhappiness regarding Arthur's current predicament. It hadn't come as a surprise, surely. Arthur had told Merlin, months ago even, that his father had this plan to marry him off to Lord Godwin's daughter. There shouldn't have been any shock that Arthur would inevitably agree to this proposal. This was what he did. It was how he functioned in life. Yet Merlin now paced before him, occasionally muttering insults that Arthur only half-paid attention to. There was an oddly sweet quality to Merlin's outrage on his behalf, as misplaced as it was. He didn't only believe Arthur was an idiot. He thought the entire lot of them were.

It was, admittedly, only a slight departure from Merlin's occasional rants about class and the sodding rich who spend more time counting their money than donating it to those who need it, or something like that.

"Are you done?" he asked, pulling Merlin up short. The glare that resulted from his interruption rolled off his shoulders like water. No amount of ranting would change what Arthur needed to do. "I came here for your help, not your opinion."

"Too bad." Merlin frowned and sat beside Arthur. "There's a spot, not far from here in the forest, that should work. It's secluded-"

"Big word."

"It's secluded," Merlin continued like he hadn't been interrupted. "And no one really knows it's out there. She's probably never been." Arthur glanced up at Merlin, curiously. "She'd like it. Just don't be a prat while you're out there. You're going to use your mother's ring still?"

Arthur nodded and looked away. "Yes."

He could feel Merlin's gaze like a heavy weight against his neck. "Be careful, Arthur. She's not the only one who might get hurt."

♔

"Where are we going?" Elena held her hands out in front of her, fingers grappling with the air as Arthur led her with one hand on her lower back and one over her eyes.

He snorted and then chuckled, and his warm breath sent tingles across Elena's skin like it tickled. She huffed at the non-answer and stretched her hands out further. She didn't know what she sought, only that there must be something near her that would give her a hint as to where they were. Arthur had blindfolded her with his tie - his _tie_ \- once she was seated in his car, and she'd been shocked enough that she left it on without questioning it. Now she regretted that. It would have been smarter than letting Arthur guide her anywhere. She wasn't sure she trusted him enough for this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But she still kept moving, following his soft spoken commands to step higher or move to the left.

They had been walking for a good ten minutes at the least. Elena had never been too good at telling the time, but surely they'd been walking much longer than strictly necessary. Whatever it was Arthur was planning for her could not be more of a surprise than his behavior. She desperately wanted to ask if they'd reach their destination soon. Her footing was awful enough when she could see. She'd almost rather he carry her like a sack over his shoulder instead of going on like this much longer.

"Arthur?"

"We're almost there. Now keep your eyes closed."

"What for-" Elena swallowed a startled scream when Arthur slid his hands under her arms and hauled her up and then set her down a few seconds later. "What was that for?"

"Would you rather I have let you fall? I can easily go back and let you try for yourself."

Elena gritted her teeth and let Arthur cover her eyes with his hands again. Despite all of that, she never once opened her eyes. Spoiling the surprise just would not be fun, she supposed. They had already come too far for her to ruin it now. She folded her arms across her chest and stumbled forward when Arthur prodded her in the back to move.

"All right." He let his hand fall from her face and set it on her shoulder. "We're here."

"It's a bunch of rocks," she said dumbly.

Arthur tipped his head back and laughed. Elena smacked his chest with her elbow and slowly began to climb the nearest boulder. Only when she was on the top did she look over her shoulder. "Well? Are you coming?"

"I'm enjoying the view from down here."

"I might not have great aim," Elena said, blushing. God's sake, why was she blushing of all things? That was a horrible, teasing thing of him to say when he didn't even mean it. "But I can still throw rocks at you. One is bound to make its mark."

"I'd like to see you try."

"All right then." Elena reached between the crevice of the two large rocks and picked up a small stone and then hurled it down, aiming for Arthur's head and missing by a wide margin. She scowled and bent to lift another.

He held out his hands in surrender. "You've made your point. Stop. I'm coming up."

Elena slipped down the other side of the boulder and pushed herself up high enough to see Arthur climbing. "You're going to have to catch me now."

"Excuse me?"

"Come along, Arthur. Keep up!" She jumped off the rock into a shallow stream and laughed, splashing across it to the other bank and ran deeper into the forest. When she couldn't hear his outraged shouting any longer, she slipped into the hollow of one of the trees, nestling against the bark and covering her mouth with her hand to silence her heavier breathing. There she waited, straining to hear any footfalls or irritated grumbling.

"Found you," Arthur said, simply materializing out of nowhere. Elena didn't hide her scream this time. She stood too fast and smacked her head against the tree and nearly fell from her hiding spot to his feet. "You know, you're a little too good at this running away." He gripped her by the arm and tugged her upright, plucking a leaf from her hair.

"I like it. It frustrates you."

Arthur's thumb rubbed a small semi-circle around the inside of her elbow, drawing a small shudder from her. She lifted her gaze to his and blinked in confusion.

"Arthur, why are we out here? I'm already being bitten. Look." She held out her arm where a large, red welt was growing along with the urge to scratch at it. "Is it important?"

Arthur shook his head and then as if realizing what he had done, frowned and then nodded instead. "Yes. Elena, I've been...told in an offensive manner, that I might have offended you the other day by asking you to marry me as I had. You're not-" He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're not Vivian, that's for damn sure. I made an ass of myself. No." He held up his hand forestalling her argument. "I know you wouldn't have agreed to be married if it was _that_ offensive to you, but I still need to apologize. And do this right." Elena tilted her head in confusion as Arthur dug inside his jacket pocket. She longed to point out he still hadn't properly asked her, even now, though that might have been the longest Arthur had ever spoken to her without interruption.

"I actually had this with me the other day," he said. "Oddly, when the time came, I completely forgot I had brought it."

He withdrew a small, faded black velvet box and scratched at his nose with his thumb. "I'd like to think it was my own subconscious telling me off for being rude to you. I apologize I never thought to give it to you yesterday when it mattered."

"It's-" She took the box in both her hands and turned it over when he gave it to her. "It's a ring box. You do realize that, don't you?"

"Since it was in my pocket, I should like to think I did. Yes." He took it back and opened it. "It was my mother's. If we're going to do this properly, I'd like you to have it." Arthur pulled out the silver ring and held it toward her. "I know what we're doing isn't exactly moral or right. I have no idea why you agreed last night or what motivated you to agree to meet with me today, but it belongs to you now."

Elena shook as she put Ygraine's ring on her own finger, twisting it about until the tiny little jade stone rested on top. "You should be down on one knee," she murmured, unable to drag her gaze away from the piece of jewelry. "Isn't that how it's supposed to be done?"

She hadn't expected him to do so, especially not in the soggy, leafy forest floor, especially not in nice trousers, but there he was. Arthur Pendragon on his knees before her like he actually meant to marry her properly. "Arthur, get up."

He shook his head and gripped her hand, rubbing the ring and gazed right at her. "Say you'll marry me."

"I already said yes."

"Yes, but then you wanted this done properly," Arthur said. "Marry me?" he repeated, sliding his fingers over her hand. She almost felt-

Well.

It almost looked like he was worried she'd changed her mind.

"You don't even know why I'd want to," she murmured, torn between examining the ring that now rested heavily on her finger and Arthur's adorably flushed face. She had to wonder if that had more to do with the fact that mud and water was seeping through his trousers than the act of proposing itself.

She really had to wonder what compelled him to drag her off into the forest to begin with when they both had perfectly nice yards without half the fuss of getting there.

"We'll get to that." He tightened his grip and his expression was terribly earnest, almost absurdly so. "Marry me? Before I need to buy myself a new pair of trousers."

"All right," she said, feeling her heart skip twice before returning to its usual rhythm. "Yes. Fine. Since you asked so many times. I'll marry you."

"And you'll tell me why," he said, getting to his feet and framing her face with one hand. She drew in a sharp breath when he pressed his forehead against hers. "Once we get you out of this forest. I don't need another black eye before the wedding."

"Oh my God, Arthur. We have three weeks. Three weeks to plan an entire wedding. This is completely mental. I can't believe you waited so bloody long, you ass!" She fisted the back of his jacket and shook him. "Now kiss me already before I change my mind. I know you want t-"

Arthur tipped his head and captured her lower lip between his teeth and then pulled back. "I do. Once you stop nattering, I'll even-"

She tugged on his hair as she shoved her fingers through his thick blond locks and arched against him, quieting him with a soft press of her lips. "Not the only one nattering," she murmured and then kissed him again until her lips were buzzing faster than her own heart.

♔

Vivian was sitting on her bed when Elena got home later that evening and she nearly backed out of the room at a run. "When did you get here?"

"Does it even matter? When were you going to tell me you were going to _marry Arthur Pendragon_?" Elena winced and half expected her to scream 'traitor' at her as well. She rubbed her arms and glanced at the floor. "You've gone mad, haven't you? I knew it was dangerous for you to begin dating like this. You have no idea how this world works. You don't marry the first man you sleep with! Even if they are attractive and charming. And Pendragon is certainly not any of those things." She stood up and grabbed Elena around the wrist and shoved her onto the bed. "Are you ill?"

"I'm not ill," Elena said. "I'm fine. Maybe. Maybe you were wrong about him."

"Did he tell you how he got that black eye? It's amazing what loose men will tell you when they want to see your knickers. He definitely didn't get it in a brawl or playing football. Lance hit him. He hit him for you, you silly chit." Vivian stroked her hand over Elena's hair. "He hit him because he hurt you first. Elena, listen to me. No one believes this is a good idea for you. Pendragon isn't some fairytale prince. For God's sake the man isn't even titled. He doesn't even have his own money. His daddy pays him. It's a glorified allowance. Trust me. Break this silly thing off before you can get hurt. No one will think any worse of you."

"I will," Elena said and after a moment, she realized this was true.

Vivian gaped, and it really wasn't very attractive being able to see all the way to the back of her mouth. Elena gently pushed Vivian aside so she could hold up her hand. "I promised him. And he promised me. You're my best friend, Vivi. Can't you be a little bit happy for me?" Her smile wavered and wobbled, and her eyes stung. She sniffled and looked down at their hands. It shouldn't hurt this much to hear her own thoughts thrown back at her. Had she not had the same reservations not even the night before? The exact same thoughts about what she was doing had plagued her until the early hours of the morning, but now they stung. Her throat closed. "Please? Just once for me, Vivi? Please?"

"You're asking me to accept this?" Vivian asked.

"Is it that surprising to you that I would?"

Vivian flipped her hair over her shoulder and smoothed her expression. "Fine. For you, I'll pretend I don't 100% disapprove of this." Her expression grew considering. "So long as I can help you find your dress of course. There are some boundaries here. We both know you can't dress yourself."

Elena laughed and rubbed her nose. "That'd be useful as I've only got three weeks to find one."

Vivian froze and her calm broke into a rage. "I'll kill him myself! _Three weeks_? You are both insane. No one can be prepared in three weeks. Do you even know- No. Of course you don't know what sort of dress you want. Get a hold of your little friend there. The dark-skinned girl with the hideous complexion. She seems to know her way around food if her waistline says anything."

Elena opened and closed her mouth a few times, stunned into silence. "She's pregnant, Vivian. And right now, she's being more supportive of this than you are and she is furious with Arthur for even asking me. Go...Oh, I don't know, find me some bridal magazines or something and find a way to apologize to Guinevere while you're out. She's going to be in the bridal party whether you like her or not. Just...get out of my room."

She screamed into her pillow as soon as the door was closed.

♔

Morgana always seemed to be around when Arthur least appreciated her. He scowled as he finished shooting off a text to Merlin, who had been the most stubbornly rational one of the whole lot. Merlin. Who some days couldn't even tie his shoelaces properly. Arthur didn't understand how someone so cataclysmically dim could possibly be his voice of sanity at this moment, but he needed the idiot now more than he ever had.

And that Merlin replied to his text asking him to be his best man with a smiley face and a 'nice one, Arthur' wasn't helping his mood.

"Don't you have more flowers you and Guinevere can decide upon?"

"She really said yes," Morgana said and Arthur was positive she could not have sounded more outraged if she had tried.

"Of course she said yes," Arthur said with a groan. "You knew as much yesterday."

"I wasn't sure until I noticed Ygraine's ring was missing." She tossed her iPhone onto his bedding. "And then it miraculously turned up on Facebook."

Arthur gazed at the picture of Elena's hand for a long moment. "We're going to need your help, Morgana."

"Oh, believe me, I already know." Morgana's agreement came far too readily for Arthur's liking. He shouldn't have opened his mouth. "Gwen has been killing herself trying to make you a menu since these showed up last night."

Arthur found himself at a loss. "I thought she didn't approve."

"She's not happy with you, Arthur," Morgana said. "But she does love you and Elena, and Guinevere doesn't do things halfway, even out of spite as you well know."

"I do," Arthur said and flipped the phone over before he was caught staring again. "No one is going to believe us."

"You didn't look at all the pictures, Arthur." Morgana carefully removed the iPhone from his grip and turned it back over. She hit the album button on the screen and up popped four more photos. "If I hadn't known you two had been only on three dates, I would never be suspicious. Look at her, Arthur. Tell me you think she's faking her happiness."

Arthur's pulse thundered past his ears for a roaring second as he lingered over the one of Elena's smile hidden behind her hand. She never smiled like that around him. It had to be an act. But even then, it was a decent one.

"She must be," Arthur muttered.

"She isn't though." Morgana took her phone and - _oh, god_ \- shoved it down into her bra. Arthur shuddered in horror and wished he had the foresight to leave antibacterial hand gel on the bedside table. "She and Vivian had a massive fight last night."

"And you know this how?" Arthur asked, fighting the urge to wipe his hands on his cover multiple times.

"I know everything, Arthur. You simply have to accept that and we can move forward."

"Do you know how much this whole wedding will cost?"

"Do you know how much Uther is willing to spend to see you in Godwin's back pocket and your trust fund out of your uncle's hands?"

"I'm not doing this for him," Arthur snapped.

"You're not truly doing this for yourself either, Arthur." Morgana folded her arms across her chest. "For your sake I hope Elena knows why she's doing this, because your grandfather's lawyer wants to meet with you on Monday and he wants you to bring Elena with you."

Arthur groaned. "Doesn't he realize we have a whole wedding to plan?"

"Yes." Morgana's blunt nature took him aback. "Which is exactly why he wants to meet with you now, before your excuses can grow."

"Give me your damn phone back; I need to update my status."

Morgana withdrew her phone and Arthur almost didn't entirely cringe as he thought of the boob sweat that now covered it. "To what?"

"Engaged."

♔

"Mr. Pendragon, as I understand it, you plan on getting married this month."

Aredian Huntsman was his father's lawyer and closest ally. They had been friends in university, a fact that curdled Arthur's stomach. Every word Arthur spoke had to be precise and unassuming as it would be relayed to his father within an hour, something Arthur had to frequently remind himself when in the man's presence. There was something slimy and disturbing about him that set Arthur's teeth on edge whenever they met. He claimed to have their best interests at heart. Arthur wasn't certain Huntsman had a heart to swear on. The man had done more dubious business in Arthur's lifetime than he dared think about. Arthur had little doubt that should he ever come under the wrong-side of Huntsman, he would not be the one to win.

It wouldn't even be a contest.

"Yes, sir," he said.

The office was like an ice chest. Even Arthur's business jacket couldn't keep the chill at bay. Gooseflesh was crawling up and down Elena's bare arms and legs and she shifted so her legs were now tucked beneath her. It wasn't at all appropriate and Arthur found it hard to give a damn. It might be the end of July, but this was excessive and the elderly man across from him didn't seem to be affected at all.

"Take my jacket." She didn't do more than blink owlishly at him. "For God's sake. Here." Arthur stripped off his coat and draped it over Elena's shoulders, well aware of how closely they were being watched. "Can we make this brief? We're meeting with our caterer in an hour."

"Very well, then. As I'm sure you know, your grandfather's estate remains in your hands until your thirtieth birthday. You must know you're cutting things awfully close, Mr. Pendragon. Your uncle has already been in contact with me twice and he promises swift retribution if this is all a scam."

"He would." Elena covered his hand and he spread his fingers to trap hers between them. She swirled her thumb over the back of his palm in slow circles that made his pulse bleat and his nerves calmer. "He doesn't have anything to stand on. He's poured all his money into a business that floundered five years ago. He's living off of residuals. He has no job. He has no family. What is the worst he could do?" Arthur asked pointedly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Huntsman, but my uncle isn't going to threaten me that easily."

"Cockiness won't save you in a courtroom, Mr. Pendragon. I would tread wisely until the ink stains that marriage certificate of yours. I expect to hear from you next week." Huntsman waved his hand dismissively. "You know your own way out, I trust?"

"Sir." Arthur nodded and then turned, helping Elena to her feet and rubbed his hands over her arms twice before leading the way from the room.

They were half-way to the car lot before Elena said anything. "Does he always look like he's trying to decide which sauce you'd taste best in?"

"I always wondered if he was going to remove an organ myself. Possibly the intestines." He went around the car and opened her door. "Lunch?"

Elena slid slowly into the seat and stared up at him like he'd grown an extra nose or a third eye. "If you'd like," she answered and then shut the door on him, leaving him to wonder what the hell he was doing.

Lunch itself turned out to be a wash. Nothing sounded appetizing to either of them and they ended up getting fish and chips and covered in grease, something Arthur wasn't fully accustomed too and neither was Elena, but at least she seemed to be enjoying it. Arthur watched her over his bottle of water as she sucked each greasy finger into her mouth, once, twice until they popped back out again. It was the most obscene display he'd seen in public from someone who definitely didn't have the faintest idea of what she was doing. Her hair, which had been nicely curled and pinned down had blown out in a mess because of the wind and mist that had settled around them not long after they'd pulled away from the lawyer’s office.

"We need to find a registrar, Arthur," she said as they rounded the corner into a park.

He cleared his throat and drowned his own embarrassing thoughts in his bottled water. "What?"

"We need to tell someone official that we're getting married," said Elena as she tossed her paper into the trash bin. She sucked on her thumb and bit the nail, turning to look up at him. "We need the certificate, weren't you paying any attention?"

"We can do that today. We're already out."

"No, we can't. No, really," she hurried to add. She appeared to be honestly apologetic to dash that plan. "I promised Vivian I'd go dress shopping today. It's not as if Morgana hadn't planned on you meeting with Lance and Gwen later today to look over food options. I'm rubbish at those decisions; everything Gwen makes tastes wonderful."

Arthur nodded and grasped her hand after a hesitant move toward her. He didn't know what he was doing any more now than he did the week before or the week before that. His experiences were not what anyone would call winning and his ability to charm people was clearly lacking in something fundamental, or so Morgana and Merlin had both told him on numerous occasions. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not backing out, Pendragon, unless you ask for it first." She squeezed his hand. "You're giving me more freedom than I've ever had, Arthur. I know you don't understand, but trust me a little. All right? I am going to be your wife one day, like it or not. Well, you could marry Merlin, I suppose, but I get the feeling you'd kill one another before the five year period is up."

Arthur felt his neck heat up. "Dinner tomorrow then?"

She grinned at him and his breath caught. It was the same happy smile from the photographs she had taken the week before. The exact same dimples and happiness. The same sweet, unassuming ridiculously crooked smile. "Can we go somewhere that won't make me break out in hives this time?"

"Anywhere you would like."

Elena swung their linked hands and then covered his with her other and squeezed. She dropped a kiss to his knuckle; if he had blinked, he would have missed it, even though her face went a wild shade of red like she couldn't quite believe she had done that. "Sounds like a date then."

He dusted his lips over her cheek. "Tomorrow."

♔

Rain whipped around him as he hurried towards his house from the safety and warmth of his car. Arthur held his briefcase above his head and curled low into the collar of his jacket as he leaped up the steps and pushed in through the front door. He was later than he had anticipated, work holding him up two hours after he had wanted to leave, and the troubling part was he saw no way he could have escaped it. Leon had stayed, as had Merlin, but even they had been flagging by the time they all left; Arthur couldn't help the slight guilt he felt over it. He shook off his bag and set it down on the floor as he went to remove his jacket and loosen his tie.

The call from the dining room held him frozen with his hands on his tie. He swallowed uncomfortably and finished the motion, drying his shoes off as he walked slowly through his house to the back where dishes clanked and the smell of food had his mouth watering. None of that was enough to keep him from dragging his feet.

"There you are, Arthur. Goodness, you just get older each time I see you."

"Uncle Agravaine," Arthur greeted, extending his hand toward the older man and gritting his teeth. "I wasn't aware you would be at dinner."

"I was in the neighborhood," Agravaine explained in a blithe tone. Arthur wished to contradict him: one didn't simply travel across the bloody country and not announce they were coming. He certainly hadn't been 'in the neighborhood'. This was an ambush. Arthur had no doubt he wouldn't enjoy dinner that evening, no matter what was served. He wasn't sure he could stomach it.

"Right." Arthur sat across from Morgana and rubbed his hand below the table. She sipped at her wine with a neutral expression, but the flush of her cheeks told him that wasn't her first glass. He didn't doubt Agravaine had been here for quite some time. "Of course. It's good to see you."

He smiled and reached for Morgana's glass as she set it down. That she didn't comment only increased Arthur's suspicions about the nature of this visit. "I hope you didn't have to drive in this weather," Arthur added, swallowing a mouthful of warm wine.

"It was quite a nice drive, actually," Agravaine said, "I arrived well ahead of this storm."

"Wonderful," Arthur muttered, setting down the wine and turning in his seat to face his uncle fully. "How long do you intend to stay this time?"

"Arthur."

Arthur didn't acknowledge his father's warning. Agravaine's face tightened, but his smile never once slipped. Bastard. Agravaine had only come into their lives a handful of years ago, too short a time to properly ingratiate himself, too long after Ygraine's passing for it to be purely social. Arthur had been in graduate school at the time, just starting his master's degree and trying to understand what he wanted from his life. The answer had become starkly obvious upon the arrival of his uncle. He didn't want to become _him_. At times, it had felt like a fairly lofty goal. Agravaine brought out every poor emotion Arthur had, in ways his father had never managed to achieve. His patronizing attitude was coupled with platitudes and false smiles aimed to disarm anyone he spoke with, but he was sloppy about it, more so than a man of his age and lineage had the right to be. Over twenty years of silence would be more than any man or woman could overcome, but even the stiffness and dismissive behaviors of both Arthur and Morgana had not managed to drive him away from their fractured family. He had no right to even want to be included now. Arthur _loathed_ him for having the gall to survive where his mother did not.

"Until your birthday, Arthur." Arthur did a valiant job not shuddering when Agravaine gripped his shoulder and gave him a shake. "Of course, I hear you'll have more than one thing to celebrate this year. Isn't that right, Uther?"

Uther took a stalwart sip of his own wine and simply answered, "It is."

Arthur didn't move for a moment, meeting Morgana's curious gaze, before turning his attention back to his uncle and pasting on the flashiest, enthused smile he could muster. "If you have no other plans, you're invited."

"I'd hardly miss it. Besides, your father was already gracious enough to extend an invitation, didn't you know?"

"Certainly." Arthur's answer was as immediate as Uther's scowl and as crisp and haughty as he'd ever managed before in his life. He'd rather drown in a vat of the red wine vinegar that topped their salads than have his uncle at his wedding, but the damage was more or less done, and he couldn't very well uninvite the man who stood to oppose everything about it. He understood this. He didn't have to enjoy it.

Morgana coughed politely into her napkin and shot Arthur a pointed look before turning to Uther with an expression that Arthur could only describe as fond and asking to be excused. She circled the table and kissed the top of Arthur's head, laying a hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before exiting the room, taking his last port of sanity with her.

He couldn't hate her for it. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd do the same damn thing. As it was, he wished he had thought to feign some kind of illness so he could have dealt with this in the morning.

His luck had never been terribly good.

♔

"He did _what_?" Merlin gawked at Arthur from across the rickety little table that was sandwiched into the corner of his flat. The wallpaper behind Merlin's head was peeling in little curls; Arthur wanted to reach over him and tear it off. He didn't. He calmly sipped his tea and ate a bit of toast and watched the fifty emotions Merlin managed to exhibit in one minute pass before settling on outrage. It was rather vindicating, truth be told. "And your father _let_ him."

"Apparently." Arthur set down his cup and ruffled his hair, exhaustion creeping down deep into his bones. He hadn't slept more than an hour and had given it up as a lost cause around six, choosing instead to go and harass Merlin. It worked in his favor. Arthur hadn't realized how tense he had been until Merlin had steered him in through the door and forced him to sit. Merlin tended to be full of surprises, but his presence and…enthusiasm for life's stupidity was endearing and relaxing. Arthur didn't want to try and understand why Merlin had this effect on him for fear he'd ruin the sensation. "I can understand why he did. Should he try anything, we won't be caught unawares. Morgana is livid."

"I'm livid!" Merlin snapped. "Arthur, he can't just…storm into your home and stay there. He's only trying to distract you."

"I'm hardly home," Arthur pointed out, twisting his cup in his hands.

"Yes, but it's your home, not his," Merlin argued. "It's wrong of him."

"Merlin, when has he ever done anything worth endorsing?"

Merlin stayed silent and scowled. Arthur took another swig of his tea. "Besides, he'll be gone by the end of next week and that will be the end of it."

And if he and Elena made it through without going mad, all the better.

  


  
"God get out of that now, you look like an exploded fairy cake," Vivian said.

Elena burst out laughing and stood on her tiptoes and then crouched low in the dress. Tulle went up to her ears and it only made her laugh harder. "No. No, God. No. Definitely not, I'm sorry, but ball gowns are-" She waved her hands frantically at the shop attendant. "Can we try something with less..." She fanned her hands out to the side, embarrassed by the whole affair. It was the second dress she had tried on and both made her feel like she was dressed in a life-preserver, not a wedding dress. The fabric was rustling so loudly as she hopped off the low platform she couldn't even hear herself think.

"Nothing too tight, either," Vivian opined and Elena smiled in gratitude. She hadn't been lying. She did need Vivian here for this. Vivian had been her best friend and best wardrobe manager since they were six and Elena had thought coveralls were the best thing in existence. She still secretly did, but even if she owned a pair Vivian would find them and either shred them or burn them on the spot. "Or low-cut."

"And nothing too sparkly," Elena added as she bustled back into the fitting room.

This was the fourth shop they had been to. Elena didn't mean to be picky. She really wasn't. She would have worn the first thing she'd tried on, but Vivian had vetoed it the second Elena had emerged to show it off. Apparently it made her look like a grandmother. Elena had thought the lacing had been nice.

"And nothing white."

"What?" That was new. Elena glanced over her shoulder, certain she had heard wrong, but Vivian looked determined for a fight and Elena didn't know how to properly defend her position.

"I suppose nothing white either," she said with a shrug as she was hustled off into the dressing room. She already felt like they’d been at this for hours. The whole affair of getting the dress on was nothing compared to taking one back off again. She tried not to stumble as she hopped from the confines of the ball gown and catch her foot on a seam or anything. She was petrified of having to buy a dress because she ripped something important. She just wanted the day to be done with. She should have let Vivian try on the gowns. They were roughly the same size and shape and everything. And then Vivian could parade around in a bunch of dresses while Elena sat down and simply watched her friend have a good time of it.

“What do you want, love?”

“I just want something simple. I don’t really care, and I need it fast.”

The woman’s eyebrows, which Elena wasn’t too sure were fully real, arched high into her perm. “Hm.”

“I’m getting married in two weeks,” she explained.

“So soon?”

Elena shrugged and held her arms across her bared stomach, an unconscious gesture of humiliation that served a dual purpose to shut the shop lady up about it. She hadn't even realized what she'd done until the woman's eyes followed the cross of her arms and blushed. It was an utter lie, but it certainly served a purpose. Elena felt mildly guilty when instead of negating the theory, she added, “We waited too long.”

“I have just the dress for you.” She snapped her fingers and turned toward the door. “Do not run off before you see this one last dress. I can see you’ve already had enough for one day.”

“Thank you.”

Elena sunk down onto the platform the moment the woman left and she stretched out her legs before her, flexing her ankles and toes. She ached in ways she never knew she could ache just from being pushed into and out of clothes. And the heels they kept shoving her into made her ankles roll like nobody’s business. She ought to leave. It’s not like she owed this woman anything, but Vivian would never let her leave if she explained what was taking so long.

She groaned into her knees.

It took twenty minutes. Twenty long, agonizingly dull minutes where she remembered exactly who had her cell phone and why, before a cream colored dress came through the door. Elena blinked and then mentally berated herself for being fanciful, getting to her feet.

“It isn’t white,” she said and it drew a chuckle from the older woman.

“No, indeed it isn’t. Go on. Step up.”

Elena moved as instructed, shimmying into the dress and nearly gasping at how soft it all was. She fingered one of the flowers on the lace skirt that flowed out from the gown itself. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s the only one left in stock.” The woman explained as she zipped up the back of the dress and grasped the silk ribbons that dangled at Elena’s sides. “The designer doesn’t make this any longer. Too old-fashioned.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Look in the mirror.”

Elena forced herself to do as told and nearly fell over in shock. “I’m crying.”

“You are.”

“I thought that was a myth.”

The shop attendant chuckled and pinned a clip into her hair. Elena reached up and touched it in bewilderment. “But-”

“One last thing.” Elena watched as the shop attendant pulled down a box from a high shelf and a yard of tulle tumbled into her arms. She attached it to the clip and fanned it out behind her. “There. Beautiful.”

She shook her head in denial. “But I’m a mess.”

“You’re excited, and lovely," the woman told her with a kind smile. "We should show your friend. Are you ready?”

Elena smiled crookedly and wiped at her eyes with her hand. “May I have a tissue first?”

♔

"What on earth is wrong with black and white?" Arthur asked. He sat on the floor by Elena's feet, arms folded over his chest as her fingers danced over his scalp, playing with his hair. They had been at this for an hour now, a long, dull hour, with no consensus. Arthur didn't understand why they were even fighting over this. It was mundane and pointless. It was without a doubt worse than the day they attempted to pick out stationary, At least then they had been in agreement over how ridiculous it was. Elena appeared to be invested in this. That alone kept him quiet. "It's _classic_."

"It's boring. Besides, Vivian wouldn't wear it," Elena countered, flipping through her fifth bridal magazine. Her _fifth_. He doubted she had thought to purchase them on her own and knew who he could place the blame on. Vivian had been useful, in her own way. Arthur knew Elena needed a friend during this, but did it have to be _her_? Arthur never could tell if Vivian was hell bent on making Elena's wedding the most successful spectacle that year, or an utter catastrophe to humiliate Arthur. "What about blue?" she asked instead.

"Blue?" Arthur repeated, warily leaning back to find out what she had been reading.

"It seems popular enough," she said, passing down the magazine to him. "It's been all over all these magazines. Different shades and things like that. And we're not doing pink or yellow."

"God, I hope not," Arthur muttered.

Elena pulled on his hair. "Shut up, Arthur," she said and smoothed his hair back into place in apology.

♔

Arthur went to Elena’s door this time when he arrived. He’d received a rather uncryptic email that morning from his father when he woke up that detailed in fully descriptive terms why he needed to speak with Lord Godwin. Today. And he ended in a suitably threatening manner. This was his father after all. Arthur was currently thanking God that Lord Godwin was truly nothing like his father and had some sense of humor. He must have, looking at his daughter, and that he wouldn’t take offense to Arthur doing things backwards.

Normally Elena would be rushing out the door barefoot and diving into his car like she was making a jailbreak, but today the door was answered by a tall, muscular man who didn’t seem to smile.

Arthur cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Lord Godwin.” And then steal his daughter for the evening. He decided not to add in that last part.

"I'll take you to him."

Those were the last words the other man spoke to Arthur as they walked through Godwin's home and he was left before a door. Arthur didn't know what to make of that as he lifted his hand to knock. He was interrupted well before he could finish the motion.

"Arthur?"

The quiet call caught him off guard. He looked to his left and saw Elena jogging down the hall in her nightshift. Arthur could have swallowed his tongue. She beamed like it was Christmas before she flung her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Her hair was a wild mess of curls and frizz, piled high on her head and caught in an elastic band that swung strangely to the side where half her hair had spilled out. She had a pillow imprint along her jaw and some mascara smudged beneath her eyes that she must have missed the night before, but she looked oddly beautiful and Arthur's stomach flipped in relief.

"Daddy has a call," she whispered into his ear before kissing his cheek lightly. "We can wait in the kitchen." She sniggered and tugged on his hand, guiding him back down a different corridor. "Percy should have told you that. I don't know what he was thinking."

"Percy?" Elena flexed her arms and made a deep scowl. Arthur snorted. "Ah."

She took him into the kitchens and pointed at a small table that rested in the corner before she began puttering around the cabinets, searching for something and pushing her hair back from her face every time she bent over. He did his best not to stare.

"God, where did she put it?" Elena whispered loud enough that Arthur heard her plainly as she rummaged through another cabinet. He stood to come up behind her and stretched a hand up toward a tin he spotted on the highest shelf and shook it once. He felt her suck in a breath, saw the way her chest heaved with it, and he flushed, embarrassed for noticing it at all. "That's it! Goodness, how did she reach all the way up there?"

"Who?" Arthur asked

"Gwen!" Elena twisted around and gazed up at him with large blue eyes. "She was by earlier this morning to drop off samples of cake and we had some tea. She wants to talk with you, Arthur. She's upset she hasn't heard from you in weeks."

Arthur blanched and bowed his head. His forehead brushed against hers and he sighed. "I assume she thinks I'm angry with her."

"She's had a stressful month, Arthur." Elena fidgeted with the container and then set it down, wrapping her arms around his back. "I'm worried about her," she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder. "She and Lance have been having fights for weeks now." She pulled back enough to see his face and he could tell she was imagining his black eye that was mostly healed now. "It's odd."

"It is." It was. Arthur couldn't remember a time in the past when he had seen Guinevere and Lance do more than trade a few barbed comments before dissolving into apologies. They were by and large the most settled, well-adjusted of all his friends and it was more than disturbing news to learn. "I hadn't heard."

Elena hummed and offered nothing more reassuring. She didn't have more to say than he did about it, but it was obvious how much it bothered her by the way she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and exhaled.

Awkwardly, he ran a hand up and down her back, not knowing how welcome the gesture of comfort would be coming as it was from him, but she merely tightened her hug and he accepted that as answer enough. They stood in that way for a minute or so, each lost in their own worries before Elena cleared her throat and leaned back, lifting the container of tea and shaking it.

"Shall we?"

Tea with Elena proved to be a strange comfort. He sipped slowly at his cup, siphoning heat through his hands. He watched her across the table as she stirred her cup with idle strokes, seemingly oblivious to his scrutiny. Lord Godwin had yet to make an appearance, but it would only be a matter of time. Arthur's stomach was currently knotted in fifty separate ways as he thought of how that particular discussion would go. He wasn't certain how to explain the necessity of marrying his only daughter, nor how to fully explain his intentions toward the sizable wealth that would soon be at his disposal and untouchable by all others, save, perhaps, his new wife. Even in the short amount of time Arthur had been in Elena's acquaintance, he knew that the fortune itself meant little to her. She was plenty wealthy in her own right, more so than Arthur was, and yet she hardly seemed to want anything. He'd surprised her the Sunday before, escorting her to a church service with her father and presenting her with a simple orchid that flustered her badly enough she had socked him in the shoulder as thanks.

He didn't know what to make of her. She confused him to his core, sometimes seeming distant and yet always touching him like they were old friends. Arthur was not the most physically affectionate man in the world, but he found her overwhelming sense of self impossible to understand. She had no issues reaching out and touching to comfort, or in jest, or in _anger_ , and he was learning fast to discern the differences. There were odd days when he didn't see her that he let himself muse on what the next few years may hold for them and found it surprisingly easy to picture their life together spiraling out before him. A comfortable path for them both to tread, never quite forgetting how they started but certainly settling and becoming…something.

She grinned at him, guileless and amused, and he wondered at that as well. They had spent almost every day together since their engagement out of necessity, but it hardly felt like a chore any longer.

He was almost, frighteningly, excited about the prospect the more things began to come together. That afternoon he would be heading out for his tuxedo fitting with Merlin, and he swore Merlin would enjoy it; otherwise he may just have to beat his best man into a bloody pile of pulp. Except even the prospect of having to handle the least fashion conscious man in England preparing for a wedding didn't deter his elevated mood.

"You're thinking quite a lot," Elena remarked. "Does it hurt?" She stifled a chuckle when he scowled at her before returning to her tea with renewed enthusiasm.

♔

This was shaping up to be a nightmare.

"Must we do this now?" Arthur asked low under his breath as he held the door open for her.

"If not now, when?" She understood his trepidation. She did. Harrods was monstrous and shopping was tedious, and for her often a disastrous affair, but the guests needed to know what to buy them. Her father had suggested they stop here first, though she never knew how serious he was being. They had less than two weeks before the wedding and neither of them had given this bit of the planning much thought. She knew why she didn't care much for it, but Arthur seemed just as disgruntled to be there as her.

"Come on then," she said as she stepped through the glass doors. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur, it's just a bit of shopping." Elena gazed at the department store with a mix of dread and determination. She suddenly wanted to be any other place but there. "The faster we get this done, the sooner Gwen feeds us."

"Don't tease me." Arthur groaned and Elena took the chance to grasp his hand, pulling him close to her side. He didn't protest the gesture, which tripped her up and made her blush. Arthur hadn't been very physical in his attentions toward her. It was like he was drifting along toward some finish line, and knowing regardless of what he did, he would win and nothing else mattered. Yet lately he hadn't been pulling away from her when she went to touch him. There were times he even made the leap first, but those times had never been in such a public place.

"She's making a roast, I think," she murmured.

Arthur nodded and his stomach rumbled its agreement. "Then let's get this over with."

♔

Merlin greeted them both at the door and grabbed one and then the other by the jackets and hauled them inside. Elena laughed and bussed his cheek as she detached herself from his clutches and moved to hang her jacket on a free peg on the wall. Arthur stood back and watched her move through the old apartment like she had been there many times before. He wondered how often Elena had sought out Gwen as refuge in the past month as opposed to confiding in someone else. She knew where everything was without blinking and even navigated a cushion from the sofa that had somehow come to rest in the hall. It was the most graceful he had seen her outside of riding her horse.

"She's over once a day," Merlin whispered from behind him. Arthur absolutely did not flinch at the sudden distraction. "Didn't she tell you?"

"I don't monitor her every movement, Merlin," he said, hanging his jacket beside Elena's. "How is it any of my business?"

Merlin rolled his eyes and gave Arthur a shove toward the kitchen. "It is your wedding."  
Arthur didn't answer and Gwen's laugh erupted loud and merry from the next room to fill the silence that should have been his answer.

♔

Arthur met Elena during his lunch hour. She arrived in the park outside his office building five minutes into his break in a floral dress, flip-flops and a large floppy hat. He snorted as she peeked at him over her dark sunglasses and then kicked off her shoes in his direction, running barefoot across the grass and toppling to a stop beside him. He caught her hat as it soared off her head and set it on the blanket by his feet and then reached up to pull her down as well. This was becoming a fast routine. They needed the time to plan, and between Arthur working odd hours five days of the week, and Elena being dragged all over the city by Vivian when she had a free moment, they rarely had time to meet.

In a motion that would have made Morgana proud, Arthur had suggested they meet here for lunch as a compromise. Today was one of the hottest, weather-wise, in weeks and Arthur had already shed his tie and jacket, and had even rolled up his sleeves and the bottom of his trousers. He hadn't gone quite so far as to take off his shoes and socks, though the temptation to do so never left his mind. Elena's arrival only reinforced the urge, one he was quick to kill.

Elena lay down alongside him and propped herself up on her elbow, observing him with a curious expression. He wasn't certain he needed to know what she found so fascinating. It wasn't worth breaking the comfortable quiet to ask. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers over her cheek, amused by the way it went pink long before he touched her skin. She was warm beneath his fingertips and her breath ghosted against his wrist when she turned to kiss his palm.

"I'm scared," she murmured. A sudden hitch to her breath held his attention in a way her soft-spoken words hadn't. "I'm scared that we won't work, Arthur. That someone will know we're lying, and that this won't happen."

His chest tightened. "Why?"

She wasn't looking at him. Arthur cupped her cheek to try and reclaim her gaze. "Because I'm beginning to want this," she said. "I always knew you would be my way to escape my father's expectations. I've wanted to move out since I was nineteen, but I was frightened, Arthur. I was afraid of what people would say. I don't care about that any more. I realized this morning that it didn't matter what people thought about me anymore. I want to explore and live, just a little." She sucked in a breath and bit down on her lower lip. "And I want to do that with you. You're very serious, Arthur. You're quite serious, actually, but you're steady and I don't think you dislike me as much as you wanted me to believe."

"I don't." Arthur shook his head and brought his forehead down to hers, rolling onto his stomach to squash the odd flutter. "I haven't in some time now."

"I know." She smiled in a pained, embarrassed way. She wasn't the one who ought to be embarrassed. Arthur knew he had been cold and removed, downright awful in Morgana's always welcome opinion. It was enough to make him blush. He hadn't realized she thought he felt that way toward her. The knowledge overwhelmed him into silence. Her smiled dimmed and softened as she slid her hand around his neck. "That's why I'm so worried something will go wrong."

♔

Elena fiddled with her ring, twisting and turning it around her finger as she waited for Arthur to emerge from his bedroom. She crossed and uncrossed her ankles and wiggled her bare toes in the plush carpet of the hall. She had lived in wealth her entire life, but there was something so cold and uncomfortable about Uther Pendragon's house that she couldn't even call it a home. It wasn't a place she could live. She couldn't live in this cold, isolated house where no one looked the other in the eye and everyone lived on a needles edge waiting for someone to snap.

Her father must have known Uther before this happened. Elena couldn't imagine why he would ever be friends with him otherwise.

She tipped her head when Arthur emerged from his bedroom in a pressed shirt and tie and a blank expression of indifference.

"Where are your shoes?"

Elena dragged them out from beneath her chair by her big toe and kicked them into the hall. "Where is your head?"

"What?" Arthur frowned.

She shrugged and stood, slipping on her shoes. "You look like you're about to be hung on the nearest tree. Not at all pleasant."

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line and offered her his arm. "He doesn't know I have no plans to invest my inheritance into his company."

"Surely he'd understand that."

"No. He wouldn't." Arthur gave her a once over that made Elena want to shy behind his arm. "Come on. We're already late as is. I'd rather get this over and done with, if you don't mind."

"Well, obviously, I'm not being given much choice, am I?" she grumbled and brushed a hand over her skirt, picking lint specks off her legs. "I hate when you get like this. It almost makes me regret saying yes."

"This is how I always am."

Elena didn't have much to say to that. She might have been perfectly willing to agree two weeks ago, but not now. Not after seeing Arthur nearly every day, good or bad for half a month. She refused to believe this was how he always was, because she knew better. He could believe the worst of himself if he wanted, but no one could make her do the same.

He was a bit like a toad. Slimy, uncouth and annoying but really quite fascinating once you learned more about him. She stroked her free hand down his arm twice and met his confused gaze head on.

"It's going to be fine," she told him. "Even if he has a tantrum like a whiny child, you're still his son. You have to believe he loves you."

"Elena-"

"Not now, Arthur." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, nearly toppling them both into the wall. "We're already late as it is."

Dinner could have gone better. Elena sat across from Arthur and beside Morgana, whose shrewd looks made her want to crawl under the table and maybe _die_. But even Morgana's knowing looks could not put her off her supper. No, that honor was best saved for Uther Lemon-Lips Pendragon, who looked so dour and unhinged after Arthur's announcement, she briefly wondered if she ought not leave the table to get a phone in case homicide occurred. She'd never seen a full-grown man's face go quite that particular shade of purple and red. It would have fascinated her except she was completely paralyzed in her seat.

Uther wasn't shouting. No. He was silently locked in a contest of wills, breathing like a mad horse, and she could have jumped a meter when Morgana pet her leg and told her to sip some wine before she passed out. She moved on automatic. Reaching the glass and knocking some wine back and finally letting herself breathe a little. It surprised her to find she had even stopped. She couldn't recall holding her breath, but her heart was racing so fast and her hands trembling so hard she must have been.

"If you'll excuse me," she muttered weakly and tripped out from the table and scurried from the room, leaning against the first bare wall she found that was out of earshot. It wasn't in her best interest to remain in there. She wasn't sure how Morgana put up with it. Morgana, for all her terrifying glances, seemed, oh, normal, considering who her father was. A little menacing perhaps, but not prone to the theatrics being displayed between the two boys.

She sunk to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, breathing slowly and pretended not to listen to the shouting that had erupted almost as soon as she had left the dining room. She couldn't do this.

She couldn't marry into this in good faith and conscience. Everyone would be disappointed, Arthur most of all, but she couldn't stay in the same room with her future family for five minutes, let alone live with that amount of anger and hurt for five years.

Elena grabbed her hair elastic that was hidden under the sleeve of her jumper with her teeth and pulled it off her wrist as she hurriedly shoved her hair into a ponytail. She knew Arthur would come barging out of that room at any moment in a raging bad mood and she didn't want to be caught up in it.

She needed to leave.

Quietly, she crept down the hall toward the entryway where her purse had been stowed and she pulled it out, ignoring the text message from Gwen and pulled up her list of emergency contacts.

Percy answered on the first ring. "You want to come home?"

"Yes," Elena whispered and cringed at how her voice shook. "Yes, please. That would be lovely, Percy."

"I'm waiting at the end of the drive," he said and Elena's stomach swooped.

"Oh my God," she cried, "you are the best. I'll be right down."

She pocketed the phone and turned, cracking her head against the closet door. Arthur was staring at her with an odd expression, not really angry, more confused. No, definitely confused. And more definitely tired.

She bit her lip and looked away. "I can't do this, Arthur."

"What happened to ‘Everything would be fine’?" he asked, lips twisting.

"Not this. You warned me. But...I'm not strong enough to sit through that week after week. He's never going to fully approve of me or you, and I realize that now. I can't be here when things are like this." She twisted her ring and then tugged it off. "Please, take it back. Save it for someone you really love, Arthur. I can't play this game anymore."

Elena tucked the ring in Arthur's hand and closed it. "I suppose this means I lied to you." She kissed his cheek and pulled back. "Now you and your father won't have anything to argue about."

"Do you need a ride?"

"No." She flexed her naked hand, rubbing the newly exposed skin. "Percy is waiting for me." Elena hesitated. "Be good to yourself, all right?"

She turned but the door flung open before she reached it and Merlin poked his head through. "Arthur. Did you know some tall, muscular looking bloke is blocking up your driveway." He caught sight of Elena and beamed. "'lo, Elena. Trying to escape one of Arthur's awful dinners?"

"Since my ride is here, I guess I am." Elena squeezed Merlin's arm as she brushed past him, which earned her a startled look just as she shut the door behind her.

Arthur didn't move for a long moment. His body stayed rigid as the door shutting echoed between his ears. He didn't know what he expected, if he thought she would change her mind and come back, or if now would be a good time to start yelling at anyone who was nearby and listening.

"She left me."

"She didn't exactly try and escape off the roof." Merlin frowned. "What happened?"

Arthur uncurled his hand and the ring rolled to the end of his fingers. "She. Left. Me. You _idiot_."

Merlin startled and had the grace to look abashed, but that quickly morphed into quiet concern; it was both painfully familiar and painful to look at overly long. "Oh," he said, ever the eloquent speaker.

"Yes. Oh.” Arthur closed his fist again and shoved the ring deep into his trouser pocket. “It’s done.”

“You’re not even going to chase after her?”

“Why should I?” Arthur bit out, taking off his tie and flinging it at the open closet. “She made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. That she had no feelings toward me.”

“It could be worse,” Merlin said, bending and retrieving the tie and rolling it into a tight ball. “You could have feelings toward her.” Arthur tensed. Merlin took a moment before adding. “You don’t, right?”

Arthur fumbled with his jacket. “Don’t be absurd.”

“No," Merlin said. "Why would I ever think you’re capable of liking someone nice?”

“Excuse me?”

“’Oh, Merlin. Sophia is beautiful. Her tits are to die for and she nearly stole my life savings!’ ‘Oh, Merlin! Vivian has a lovely laugh and she's an utter harpy.’ ‘Oh, Merlin-’”

“Merlin.”

“Did you ever even find out why Elena agreed to marry you?" Merlin asked. "Did you even ask her yourself? Or did you just assume what she told you was everything? Do you know her best friend is Vivian, you supercilious prat? She must have had a rough time convincing her around to this mess.”

“Merlin," Arthur tried again, head throbbing.

“If you don’t go after her, how will you feel, Arthur? I know. I know. You hate talking about it, but really think about it for a few seconds. You were going to marry her. Was it because she was available and willing? Or was it something else?”

Merlin shoved the tie into Arthur’s pocket. “And figure it out before Gwaine makes his move. He’s been waiting for the opportunity since you first met her and found her picture on Facebook.”

♔

Arthur spun his mother's ring on his desk, watching it flash and glitter before clattering to a halt. He lifted it and set it into motion again. He memorized the flaws in the metal and the design on the top until he could no longer stand to look at it. His phone rested still and unused by his elbow, the need to flip it over and check his messages intoxicating even when he knew no one had tried to contact him yet that morning. Below his office window, the streets remained quiet and dark. A few cars puttered slowly past, headlights blazing shadows across his wall.

At 4am, he shouldn't expect anyone sane to be awake and giving him grief. Though, he could certainly use the distraction. His father had spent much of the evening creating the most cutting comments imaginable, jabbing at Arthur until he broke and left the house.

He hadn't been home since early the last evening. His head throbbed with it. Going home now would be too much like admitting defeat and going somewhere else was too close to hiding. The office had been the only safe place he had thought he could count on.

Until he remembered the damn ring rested in the top drawer of his desk. It judged him. Perhaps more so than his father had. His mother would be ashamed of his behavior if she were alive to see him now. Then, none of this would have happened had his mother been alive. She would have inherited his Grandfather's fortune, not him. He wouldn't be burdened with this failure.

He wouldn't have been given the opportunity to hurt people.

Elena-

Arthur slammed his palm over the ring and stopped it cold, raking one hand through his abused hair and spun away from his desk toward the orange-yellow light filtering in his window. This whole month had been a series of preordained steps. His notepad sat untouched beneath his phone, mocking him. He had thought he'd accounted for everything.

Forgetting about Elena's feelings was by far the most idiotic thing he could have done. Everything had rested upon her compliance.

He had forgotten to give her a good enough reason to stay with him. The simple lure of extra wealth and personal freedom might have been more than enough for some, but it hadn't been for her, and since Arthur was being in a generous mood, it hadn't been for him either.

He held up the ring in the light, inspecting it in careful consideration. This shouldn't have passed from his hands so lightly. He now understood that. A part of him had always acknowledged that, but the deadline loomed like a ghoul from his bedroom closet and his birthday was chasing him down like a ravenous dog.

A week remained until he turned thirty. Most people anticipated it with growing horror because they assumed it meant they were no longer young. Arthur wished he had been allowed to grow up thinking that way. He undoubtedly would be wrapped in his blankets at home, dreaming of grey hairs and responsibility and being woken up to Morgana's smug face instead of listening for the first of the employees to come into the office.

Apologizing wouldn't be enough this time. Even without Morgana's lecture, and Merlin's discussion of "feelings," Arthur had known, dreaded even, how to resolve this. He wasn't good at apologizing. Terrible didn't begin to cover how he handled his own thoughts and emotions. Elena brought out the bad as much as the good in him. She was entirely like Merlin in that regard, without being anything like Merlin at all.

Arthur swore under his breath and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. There was something he was missing. Something important and it nettled at his brain. Everything was disorder and chaos when with Elena. Nothing she did fit on any of his preplanned lists. She exasperated him, irritated him and for God's sake, he missed hearing her laugh. He realized he'd only gotten to truly hear it a small handful of times, too quick to start and stop, and entirely infectious in its merriment. The last time she had laughed, fully and without restraint, was when they had ridden into the woods and broke for breakfast. And while it had been at his expense, it occurred to him he would have done a number of more humiliating acts if it made her happy.

She hadn't been that happy since with him.

His phone rang and shattered his carefully enforced silence. His phone rang and Arthur could only stare at it. The caller ID more than anything kept him locked in place. _Elena's Cell_ flashed a few times before the phone rang through to voicemail and went silent.

Arthur closed his eyes and slouched forward, grasping the phone and unlocked it. He almost dropped it when it chimed and the voicemail alert appeared on the screen. What was she even doing awake at this hour? No person would willingly subject themselves to this hour without being forced into it.

He rang his voicemail and waited, heart thumping hollow in his chest and eyes burning.

"Arthur? Arthur, I-" The message ended there as abrupt as the phone call had been. He blinked twice and went to set his phone when he realized two things. One, the message hadn't ended and two, he could hear her breathing, shaky and shallow. "Arthur, can you come down here and let me in? I can see your office light on and-Well, I only know that because of Merlin and he just left, so if it wouldn't be too much of a bother. I'll just. I'll be here." Her voice went muffled and sharp and Arthur cursed a second time, slamming his phone down on the desk and launching to his feet.

"The hell is wrong with you, Merlin?" Arthur grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and yanked it on as he rushed from his office, skipping the elevator entirely as he fled down the dimly lit stairs and emerging beside the front entrance. "If this is some idea of a joke," he began when Elena stepped into view. Her lower lip was tucked between her teeth and her hands were shoved deep into her jacket pocket, but he wasn't imagining her there.

He grabbed a door wedge and left it at the inside door, moving to unlock and open the outer ones. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know. It's stupid, I know, but I couldn't sleep," she whispered. "I couldn't-So I called Merlin and he told me you were here, though I really don't know how he could have known that unless you told him, because really no one is awake at this hour unless they were at a party and are too drunk to get home alone, but you don't look drunk and now I'm gabbling." She took a breath. "May I come in?"

"God, yes." He grabbed her arm and tugged her in through the open door and immediately let her go once realizing what he'd done. "Elena-"

"If you're going to apologize to me, save it," she said, pressing three fingers to his lips. "You're not...Let's be honest, you're not very good at it."

His lips parted under her warm fingers. Slowly, he slipped a hand around her waist to cradle her lower back and draw her closer.

"Arthur-" Her hand fell away from his face and dropped to his chest, where her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt and her body arched up against him. It was all he needed.

The kiss was nothing gentle or polite. He savaged her swollen lower lip, biting and sucking on it until she found her footing. She swept her fingers into his hair and kneaded it, pressing her body against his until he lifted her and spun them against the wall. She wound her legs around his hips and whimpered, chasing his tongue with her own, tasting his upper lip and slipping past into his mouth. Her gasp sent a burst of warmth flooding through his body and he drove their hips together with a clash.

She tore her mouth away, tipping her head back and exposing her neck to him as she desperately swallowed air. Her hips rubbed against his in small, unnoticed circles that were driving Arthur mad.

She whimpered, clawing at his jacket as he nuzzled against her pale skin, sucking a red bruise right above her collarbone. Every hitch of her breath pulled him in closer. Every tiny move sent his own heart racing.

His arousal was dizzying, intoxicating, and he dragged his lips across her jaw, breathing heavily as they pushed and pulled at each other.

"Arthur," she whined, grasping a handful of hair. She tugged on his head. "Arthur," she said again. "Arthur, we need to-We're in the doorway; we can't-"

"Shit," he cursed, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck. Her hips twitched, sliding along his as he fought for control and nipped her neck. "My office. Come on." He stepped back as she slowly unwound her legs and dropped to the floor. Arthur traced his thumb over her flushed cheek unable to meet her curious gaze, knowing he'd see a question and something darker and more desperate swirling in her blue eyes.

They wouldn't make it to the stairs.

"I apologize," he told her. "I didn't-"

She took his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. "Your office?"

Arthur cleared his throat and opened the inner door with his foot. "My office."

♔

This was becoming a habit he rather wished he didn't have. He sat outside the door to Merlin's flat, hands braced against his eyes and breathing heavily through his nose. It wasn't the first time in the last month he'd found his way here. However, Merlin usually opened his damn door after the fifth knock and didn't leave Arthur to the speculation of the other lowlifes who lived in the same building. God, he never wanted to contemplate what was embedded in the carpeting beneath him. The smell was enough.

His tie hung from his jacket pocket where Elena had hastily shoved it before leaving him an hour ago with more of a wobble in his step than he felt comfortable acknowledging. She hadn't minced words once inside the buildings. Any arguments he might have unintentionally caused had been thankfully saved by sheer force of her will and her will involved quite a bit of rearranging where his desk was concerned. His office reeked of sweat and sex and fuck, his own guilty conscience, but what was done was done.

And all told…It hadn't been bad. In fact, it had been quite good, if one overlooked the tiny, insignificant fact that he had fucking taken Elena's virginity on his godforsaken desk. The little detail had apparently skipped Elena's mind until more than a moment too late.

Arthur groaned and scrubbed at his face, scowling up at the flickering hall light. He should have stopped things then and there. He shouldn't have let her leave with Ygraine's ring.

Soft footfalls echoed up the narrow stairs, too soft to be Merlin's unless he thought he was being stealthy, and there wouldn't have been a reason for that much forethought. Not yet. "Arthur?"

Arthur jerked out of his slouch. This. He had not expected this. "Guinevere?"

"You do know its seven a.m," she said, setting down her brown grocer’s bag and coming to crouch before him. She looked ready to lay her hand against his forehead and check him for fever. "Merlin's already left."

"What?"

"He's always gone by now." He shrunk under her level gaze. Possibly he should have known this. Possibly he should be asking how she knows this, or even why she was there. "He leaves early so he can run a few errands."

"But he's late," Arthur said stupidly.

Gwen smiled as she came closer and then wrinkled her nose. "You smell horrible," she said. "I'll let you in." She plugged the key into the lock and turned it, leaving Arthur no place else to look but the gentle curve of her normally flat stomach and the fraying edge of her shirt. "And after you shower, we'll talk."

He glanced up at her and nodded, following her in.

The shower was blistering the moment it came on, but Gwen had warned him of that, in fairness, and showed him with a complicated flurry of fingers and muttered curses how to balance out the temperature before it scalded his skin. He stepped under the spray when he got it down to nearly tolerable and rested his forehead against the tiled wall. He had forgotten that Gwen still lived here. She and Lance had been hunting for a flat of their own for months with no luck. Luck played a large part in his careful avoidance of the place. Luck he had held until now.

"Please don't drown in there, Arthur," she called through the shut door. "I'm not sure how I would explain that to your father. You know how he is."

"I'm fine."

She pushed open the door and Arthur was grateful for the thickness of the shower curtain. Still, he let out a terribly undignified squawk at the intrusion that Gwen dismissed, as he had known she would.

When she didn't immediately speak, Arthur thought she might have left. "I am," he repeated. She chuckled. "I thought we would be talking after I showered."

"I see no reason why we need to wait." The toilet lid clinked and he followed Gwen's dark outline as she sat. "I've got work today too, Arthur."

Arthur scowled at her shadow. He had hoped to avoid this conversation longer. Merlin would have at least plied him with tea and a story ten times stranger than his own before demanding details. From experience, he knew that was not how Guinevere functioned, which was all the more damning in his situation. Guinevere liked him, God only knew why, but she had somewhat adopted him the same day she began to date Lance. In her mind, moving in with Merlin solidified this cracked notion, and Arthur had never had the heart to dissuade her. It hadn't helped his cause that Morgana had taken to Gwen about as well as she took to anyone and was now closer to her than he was with his own sister.

Guinevere had become a calming constant in his life in a few short years. Much of the time he forgot she wasn't family, no matter how often he saw her and how loudly she berated him. He frowned. He might be seen as oblivious to the goings on of his family, but now that he had given himself time to think, the question that had been hounding him for week suddenly reemerged. "How long?"

"Since what?" she asked.

Arthur snorted at the innocent come back. "Since you found out you were pregnant?"

"Arthur-"

He pulled back the shower curtain and peered around it. "Well?"

"Arthur!"

"Are you truly that scandalized?" Arthur didn't wait for her to respond. "I'm covered, Guinevere, just answer the question."

She sucked in a sharp breath and wrung her hands together, looking down at the rug on the bathroom floor. "A month."

Arthur nodded and yanked the curtain shut, stepping back under the spray. "How far along?"

"The doctor says three months."

"Lance doesn't know, does he?" Arthur didn't phrase it as a question. He didn't need to. They both knew the answer. It explained everything. The fights, the reason Gwen was here now as opposed to out with her boyfriend, the strangeness in her mood, Elena's concerns - they were all so clearly connected he wondered how Lance _hadn't_ come to notice it yet. "He needs to know, Guinevere."

"I’ll tell him," she said, and Arthur didn't doubt her intentions, but he noticed she didn't say when. "But first, why are you here, Arthur? Why this morning?"

"Elena came by my office this morning."

"And?"

"And," Arthur said, dragging this out as long as he reasonably could. He saw no reason to lie to Gwen. She was as much Elena's friend as his own, and she was bound to find out before the day ended regardless of his hesitancy. She would need to know either way, since she was still to be their caterer. "We're still engaged."

"That's-"

"Terrible." Arthur finished showering and turned off the tap, groping for a towel and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out to meet Gwen's disbelieving glare. "I never should have let her take the ring back. This is absurd." He ground his teeth and glowered at his reflection in the steamed mirror. "She deserves someone better."

He could see Gwen watching him out the corner of his eyes and braced himself for her reprimand for being so careless. He was so certain she would agree with him, he nearly missed her response. "You care for her," she said. "When did that happen?"

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and as much as he longed to deny that accusation, he couldn't. He couldn't because he _did_ very much care for Elena, and that was why he wouldn't wish himself on her. "I don't know."

"Oh, Arthur." Gwen laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. "You do know she feels the same way about you, don't you?" Her gaze was steady and compassionate and he could hardly look at her because of it. He didn't want compassion; he wanted someone to tell him he had made a mistake. "Merlin won't have made it past the shop at the corner. Go and get dressed, take some of Lance's clothes, and then find him."She stood on tiptoes and dusted a kiss across his cheek. "Have faith, Arthur. This will turn out better than you think."

♔

"Shit." Arthur glared down in his ale. The pub was uncomfortably crowded that evening, all seats full to capacity. Arthur hadn't left his chair since he had arrived with Merlin at six after work. The noise and smoke were suffocating him and his head was swimming. He swore the room was tilting somewhat more left than normal.

He realized with dim awareness that 'shit' was the first word he'd uttered since arrival. The first word he had said about the issue all day. As far as conversation starters went, that one was far from the best, but it would have to do.

Merlin bumped his shoulder companionably and ruffled his hair. "You like her."

Apparently, he had been waiting for that opening for hours now. Arthur scowled."I hate you."

"Sure," Merlin agreed readily. At least someone agreed with him readily. "But you like her. Arthur Pendragon likes somebody. We should send that story to the press. People may be longing to know. I know I was.”

"Shut _up_ ," Arthur bit out.

Merlin sniggered and took a swig of his beer. "Have you told her?"

"What do you think?" Arthur asked.

"I think you're running scared. She's not some crazy scary monster lady." Merlin's expression grew wry. "She's not your sister."

"We can both be grateful for that," Arthur muttered and finished off his drink in a swallow.

"Ew." Merlin pulled a face and sloshed his beer onto the counter.

Arthur snorted and moved to wipe it away. "Precisely."

♔

Out of everyone Elena expected to be at her door when she answered it, Morgana was the last person she had thought to see. She stepped back to let her in, noticing how she moved with a careless grace and commanded her attention with an easy smile. She hadn't understood what Gwen had meant by girl crush until confronted with Morgana alone. Elena shut the door and took Morgana's bag and jacket, hanging them both up, only too aware that she was gaping and hadn't said a word yet.

"Is Arthur all right?" she blurted out. "He's not-"

"He's fine." Morgana smirked and tilted her head, surveying Elena with a critical eye. "Working, as I'm sure you well know."

"Oh." Elena had known that. It was all Arthur did. But then she didn't know why else Morgana might be paying a visit. "Would you like to sit down?"

Morgana's smirk softened and she shook her head. She touched Elena's chin and turned her face with coaxing fingers. Elena let her, bewildered beyond good sense. "I won't be long," Morgana murmured as she released her. "You're quite pretty, Elena. I'm sure my brother hasn't said it, but that doesn't make it less true. Now, now, don't blush." Morgana brushed a thumb over Elena's heated cheek. "You _are_."

Elena wasn't sure what to say. "Thank you?"

"I have something for you," Morgana said and pulled a slender box from her bag. "Arthur was going to bring this to you tonight, until he got caught up at work. He forgot to bring it along with him this morning. He has never been good about those types of things, you understand."

Elena nodded dumbly and took the box from Morgana's hands, opening it with nervous fingers. Inside lay an aged pearl necklace on a bed of satin. She touched the bottom of it, running the tip of her finger over the largest pearl.

"Tell him thank you for me?" she whispered, unable to face Morgana's knowing smirk. God, Arthur. Why was he doing this now? A light touch on her elbow was the only indication she got that Morgana was leaving, and by the time she wrenched herself from her own thoughts, Morgana was gone.

♔

The wedding was, well, it was something, Elena supposed. People had been running to and fro for hours now, carrying flowers and cloth and something that appeared to be wine, though Elena had only caught a glimpse of the bottle before it too passed in the hands of some near stranger. The last week had gone more than fast; it had gone in a rush. She had never been so dizzy and scared in her life and people could not be bothered to stop and notice. Not even her father had been able to spare the time to question whether Elena was all right, and Elena supposed that was understandable as she had tasked him to get out invitations on very short notice. Arthur had been mostly absent since the morning she had arrived at his office. Their phone conversations were brief and about nothing other than this one day, and the hope that everything would pull together in time. Elena thought she may have seen more of Morgana that week than she had seen Arthur and she couldn't help but wonder if she hadn't done something wrong. She gripped her bouquet tight between her fists and gazed down the long middle aisle of the church, feeling the sudden urge to hiccup. Her shoulders shook with the effort to keep them silent, but from the look Vivian gave her, she doubted it had been all that successful. She doubled over with a loud 'hic!' and everyone seated in the back turned to look.

"Sorry," she said, covering her mouth with her flowers just in time to hiccup again. "Sorry," she repeated.

Vivian fluttered about her like a light blue butterfly, an annoying butterfly, touching her hair and the white flower pinning up the veil. Elena stood perfectly still and held her breath. She counted backward from twenty, twice, before she thought to let it out. There was a moment where every part of her was motionless as she waited to see if that had worked. Honestly, who wanted the hiccups on their wedding day? No matter how ridiculously extravagant, and obviously not fully real it might be. Everyone who knew anything about them had been bombarding them with questions since they had set the date. Most wanted to know what the rush was.

Most assumed Arthur had managed to get her pregnant. That was the worst assumption. Not because a child would be bad, but because Elena didn't think that was any sort of reason to rush into a marriage. The only person Elena didn't care thought this was the woman attending the bridal shop, because it gave this a sense of urgency that money couldn't buy. However, no child deserved to be raised in an unloving environment. Being single would be preferable to fighting all the time. Her father showed her that.

She lowered the bouquet with a solid breath and turned to Vivian who had been watching her with some odd fear. Elena shifted in place. "What is it?"

"I always assumed I'd be getting married before you. Do you know how annoying that is?"

"No." Elena shook her head. She really couldn't imagine. It had barely crossed her mind. Vivian had always been the one out with a new boy, once a girl - that had been an odd one - and never once had Elena assumed Vivian would be the first to settle. She wasn't the sort to do so.

"No, and now here you are about to-"

"I know, Vivi, I'm here. Can you find Gwen? Or Morgana, or-just anyone?" Elena needed a few seconds to herself. Just a few. Just enough to gather her fraying thoughts. She needed the chance to implode and rebuild herself because the last two weeks she hadn't even been able to breathe right. Everything had pushed forward so fast; she just needed the chance to understand where she was standing and what she was about to do. It was important before she got down the aisle and possibly vomited on Arthur's shoes. "Daddy maybe?"

Vivian sniffed and left the atrium. Elena gave her about five minutes before she returned.

The silence was heavy once Vivian was gone. There was only the sound of her dress swishing around her legs and across the floor when she moved. Elena closed her eyes and leaned against one of the walls, breathing in the scent of old wood and perfumes. This was an old church. A large old church. She had not been given much choice in the matter. Once her father and Uther learned of their intentions...

It wasn't so much their wedding as everyone else’s. Elena fingered the fine pearl necklace that rested against her breast. Arthur had given it to her the night before and without any explanation, the bastard. She hadn't been able to refuse it and once Vivian had seen it resting on her dresser, she hadn't had much other choice than to wear it. Apparently it matched, but so would any necklace with white in it. This one just happened to seem incredibly old. It was strange to be receiving something that holds so much value to a person twice in a month. That they kept coming from Arthur made the situation incredibly surreal.

It felt-

If she didn't know better -- and after a month maybe she should be a little more lenient about what she could claim she did or did not know about a person -- then maybe, just possibly, this was the apology Elena had been waiting on... or some sort of bewildering form of hush money. Although Elena thought she had enough of Arthur's character down to know that was patently more ridiculous than even her most ridiculous thoughts.

After all, she had been the one to seek Arthur out after ending their engagement. Guilt had not been good to her. She had felt so ill and dizzy that it had only taken her two days to try and seek out Arthur to make amends. He hadn't been wrong to mock her when she had left his house. She had been too optimistic, maybe even a bit naïve, and so she had run \\. It hadn't been planned, she hadn't meant to leave Arthur in a time of crisis, but she had never been very good at emotions. That was Gwen's territory and Elena very rarely tried to tread in it.

She hadn't even meant to become engaged a second time, when she had gone to see him that morning. All she had wanted to do was explain, but there was something so infuriating, so puzzling, about Arthur. It got under her skin and niggled away until she couldn't ignore him any longer.

Really, the sex hadn't hurt either. She hadn't been aware it could feel _good_ or desperate. It had been dizzying, intoxicating, and a bit naughty. Honestly, she thought it more than fitting that they did it at Arthur's office the first time. He practically lived there.

"Elena?"

Elena sighed. "You're really not supposed to be back here, Arthur." She glanced up at him and began to worry her lower lip. "What's the matter?"

"You look-"

"Stupid?" She shrugged. "I know."

"Nervous," he said from his place in the door.

"Since when have you been able to tell how I feel?" she asked, twisting her fingers through her veil. Arthur really, really ought to go back wherever he had just come from. He was dressed properly, except his hair. His hair was a mess.

Peculiar.

"I haven't." He ducked out of the doorway that led into an antechamber and came to stand before her. "Are you?"

"Are you?" she shot back. Arthur ducked his head and ran his fingers through his hair. The lack of response was irritating. But this did explain why his hair looked unkempt. It more than explained it. "Arthur?" she prodded, unable to let it go.

"Of course, I am," he finally said and dragged his gaze back up to meet hers and barely blinked. His eyes were burning and red at the corners. From either a lack of sleep or crying. There was no way to tell at this point which would have settled worse on her. "As should you. This isn't what you wanted." His grin was crooked and a little strained. "I do sometimes listen, Elena. I know that must come as a shock to you."

"It doesn't," she said without thinking. "It really doesn't. We don't have to do this, Arthur. There's still time, if you want."

Arthur laid a hand against her cheek and frowned. She wondered what he was thinking when he looked at her like that. The intensity made her teeth itch. "You know my reasons for standing here," he told her. "Why haven't you gone?"

Elena swallowed, tipping her head and kissed the heel of his palm. "Because I want this." She looked up at him and gathered her courage and a smile. It was the answer Arthur needed. Given time, she would understand her own choices too. But today was going to be perfect, hopefully, because she really wasn't sure how many days like this one was allowed to have. Or if she'd even want to try this farce again either. "Oddly." She shook her head. "This is our wedding day, Arthur. You're being a bit of a spoilsport."

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to give us bad luck if you keep standing there. You weren't even supposed to see me before the wedding."

"I haven't seen you in a week," Arthur pointed out, shifting his stance to something that seemed more defensive.

Elena bit her lip. "I know. You were doing so well," she joked.

Arthur pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, making her toes curl in her satin shoes. He stepped back and assessed her once over, coloring coming high into his cheeks."Twenty minutes then."

"Twenty minutes," she repeated weakly and knew she would feel every one of them.

♔

She spun in breathless wonder under the shimmering lights of the ballroom. Her hands were splayed up toward the ceiling when Arthur caught her by the waist and dragged her against him, claiming her mouth for his own. She laughed freely against his lips and danced up onto his toes, letting him guide her through the rest of the dance before she could trip over anyone else. There had already been one accident where she had upturned a bowl of punch into some elderly gentleman's lap whom neither Arthur nor Elena could seem to place or care about. Her shoes were somewhere underneath one of the multiple tables that were scattered throughout the ballroom and the runs in her pantyhose were nothing to scoff at.

Arthur dipped her down low toward the ground, laughing at her shriek of delight. She was perhaps a little bit tipsy. She clutched Arthur's jacket when he tugged her back into his arms and she landed a kiss square on his jaw.

"I might be a little drunk," she told him, a little louder than she had anticipated. He chortled and rested his hand on her lower back, nuzzling her neck and until it tingled. "Possibly."

"Possibly," Arthur agreed with another shock of laughter that sent her stomach fluttering.

The wedding had gone off without minor injury, or major injury, in her case. She didn't stumble down the aisle which had been her biggest concern. No one interrupted them to call them out on the charade, which had been her second since Arthur's uncle had been in attendance. And neither she nor Arthur bolted, which had been her third, despite their words just prior to the start of the ceremony.

It was the toasts that had done her in. Each had been more heartfelt and sincere than she could have hoped for. Everyone had sounded like they meant every word. Even Arthur had sought out and grabbed her hand - which had been mutilating a napkin beneath the table they sat at - and kept his hand firmly over hers until the toasts were finished, and when she had seen his face, she knew she hadn't been the only one touched by the words of their friends.

She was grateful, more than she imagined, to have such people in her life, and to have been given the chance to know them better. It didn't matter what her father or Arthur's had spoken of, theirs weren't the speeches that really mattered, they weren't the ones she would repeat in her mind when Arthur was a prat or when she felt like she was trapped. Those weren't the ones she secretly thought about when Arthur laughed openly and then kissed her like they were dying. She reveled in his attentions, as ridiculous and overblown as they were, and the amount of wine she had consumed in the past two hours left her warm and pliant in his arms.

She wobbled when he let go of her and then it was her turn to laugh when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to their table and set her on its edge.

"You've lost your shoes again," he whispered, kissing her cheek and ear and neck as he knelt in front of her. She pushed her toes against his cheek and shook her head.

"Don't pretend like you're surprised," she said. "You're grateful I have, or your toes wouldn't be thanking me later."

"I never said I wasn't." He glanced over his shoulder and then up at her.

"Not yet," she told him, dragging her toes down his chest before sliding off the table and crouching with him. She caught his face in her hands and kissed him softly. "I'm happy, Arthur," she told him and then let herself be dragged away by Vivian, leaving herself to enjoy the shocked delight in Arthur's eyes.  


 

 _Epilogue_

Clouds bulged angrily above them as they swung into Heathrow with three hours left to go before their flight. December had come in as a headache, big and aggressive and irritating. Arthur killed the engine and peered out the windshield with a frown.

“I’m sure it will hold off, Arthur. It hasn’t really started yet,” Elena said and even her eyes were drawn to the fat flakes that were falling.

“I don’t want us to be trapped in there.”

“Well, it’d be better in there than stuck in a car.” Arthur brought his gaze around to Elena who was twisting her gently curled hair around her finger and sucking on the ends. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” she teased. “I thought we were going on vacation.”

Arthur snorted and undid his seatbelt, jumping when Elena leaned across him to push his lips into a smile with her thumbs.

Snow was flying thick and furious by the time they reached their gate. Elena jumped at one of the seats by the window, kneeling on it and watching the world white itself out. Her nose was practically pressed against the pane by the time Arthur had finished talking with the gate attendant and joined her, seating himself beside her and crossing his arms.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“You’re going to fall out.”

She leaned over and punched him in the shoulder on the same damn spot she hit that morning, and Arthur cursed colorfully, earning a reproving look from the young mother seated three chairs over.

“Spoilsport,” Elena said, grinning like his swears had been compliments to her strength. “It really is, you know. Even if you find it annoying.”

“It’s not annoying, Elena,” Arthur began. “It’s-”

“Inconvenient?” She raised an eyebrow and sat with one leg twisted beneath her. Her lips twitched, unrepentant as ever. Arthur gave her a sour look, which never seemed to work on anyone anymore, let alone her. “You’ve said that already.”

“They’re rerouting our plane,” he explained.

Elena wriggled cold fingers into the crook of his elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh?”

“Oh.” Arthur sighed. This was what he had feared. It had been risky booking their honeymoon in December. Besides the insane holiday travelers, the weather was unpredictable. Arthur regretted not waiting until after the holiday, but when he had mentioned his plan to Elena her face had lit like a candle and he could not find a way to gently let her down without hurting her. “There may be a delay.”

“They’ll hand out blankets,” Elena said, sounding far too pleased with the notion of being stuck in an airport terminal indefinitely. “Are you all right, Arthur?”

Arthur shook his head and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m fine.”

First, the delay was only supposed to be an hour, possibly two, and with each passing minute, Arthur watched the time for their flight rolling back a half hour by half hour until finally he gave up and stood to stretch.

“I’m going to find us some food,” he told her.

Elena nodded and looked bemused by the announcement as if she couldn’t imagine why he had bothered.

“Could you bring me some tea?” she asked.

He nodded, thinking a few sandwiches might not be remiss as well. It took him nearly an hour to find a place that served tea and sandwiches that didn’t have a line longer than the one leading into the women’s lavatory and what felt like another hour to simply get the food into his hands. It might have been too much: a few stale bagels, a couple cans of cola and water and two mostly warm turkey sandwiches, but Arthur felt better for buying it.

Juggling two cups of piping hot tea and a bloated bag of food, Arthur made his way back to the gate with as much dexterity as a crowded airport afforded him. He bumped his elbows into more people than he cared to admit by the time he returned, muffling the steady flow of curses that had been slipping past his lips when he drew near. He wasn’t entirely certain the mother wouldn’t beat him with her baby bag if he kept carrying on and he had enough bruises to last him well into the new year.

“I’ve got your-” Arthur stopped speaking. Elena had moved their bags onto their seats and was lying across them, hands pillowed under her head and feet hanging off the end of the row. She twitched and shivered, curling in under his long black coat, dragging her muddy boots across her travel bag. “-tea,” he finished.

He set the tea on the heater, the bag of food on the floor and crouched before her, flicking back a clump of blond hair from her eyes that had slid out from the pretty, jeweled butterfly clip Morgana had purchased her the week prior. She moaned, turning her face into Arthur’s bag, and clutched at the fabric of his coat. Arthur’s heart flipped and warmth pooled in his chest.

“Cold,” she mumbled, tugging Arthur’s jacket under her chin as she yawned.

“You wouldn’t be if someone hadn’t decided to sit near the window,” Arthur whispered, adjusting the jacket so it was tucked around her on all sides.

Elena’s eyes opened a fraction, catching his gaze for only a moment before sliding closed. She grinned sleepily. “Spoilsport.”

  



End file.
